


The Taste of Ink

by nojamhands



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Epistolary, F/M, Family Fluff, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-03 12:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 23,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21179087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nojamhands/pseuds/nojamhands
Summary: Louisa and Spiros correspond after the Durrells leave Corfu





	1. October 1939

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a white frat boy, so I am not a WWII aficionado. Any inaccuracies and/or anachronisms are truly a result of my ignorance. I did a bit of research to make sure things lined up time wise, but other than that…just go with it, okay? I am fully aware :)  
I did my best with the Greek. I know Google translate isn't the most reliable source. Hehe

12 October 1939

Dear Spiros,

I know it will likely be a fortnight before this reaches you, but as soon as we arrived home I felt I had to immediately write you. I must admit, returning to England has been very odd, and calling it “home” even more so, despite having lived here for many years. In hindsight, I realize now that during all our years here, it never felt quite right. But Corfu felt like home so quickly, though I would guess our first steps on the island might give quite another impression.

It’s only been hours since we arrived and we all miss Corfu desperately. I have never thought England and Corfu held many similarities, but it seems especially cold and dreary now we’ve been forced to return. Nonetheless, everything around us reminds me of Corfu.

Of you.

The beaches and the sea can’t hold a candle to our cliffside spot, but I still think of you.

I heard accents and languages I don’t recognize around the market, and I think about my days in the village using my atrocious Greek to buy vegetables.

Gerry’s animals making themselves at home makes me think about all the time you spent helping him build his zoo.

The culture here is much less lively, so I can’t help but think about the colorful and boisterous place we left behind.

I hate to be melodramatic, Spiros, but I don’t know how we will survive being here for years if the war drags on. I can’t bear to think about the horrors that may await us if it does. Please write as often as you can. I know the island is tense right now, but I think if you can write me, things might seem less terrible than they are.

All my love,

Louisa

* * *

23 October 1939

Dear Mrs. Durrells,

I was very pleased to have a letter from you, but sad to think of you feeling unhappy at home. It is also strange for me to think about someplace else being your home. Your family was only here for five years, but now it feels like much more, like it was…_moíra_ for you all to be here at that time. I know that my life was much better after I found the Durrells on the road.

So far the island seems to be getting ready for the worst, but nothing has happened yet. I feel it is only a matter of time. I asked Dimitra to take the children to her mother’s. We both agreed they would be safer there. I hope this does not hurt you, as I know I said I would not leave for their sakes. But thinking about the _katastrofí_ of the last war, we thought they should get away while they could. I do not want my children to be caught up in something like that. Dimitra either, of course. She is no longer my wife, but I still care for her safety.

I hope you stay safe in England, Mrs. Durrells. It will help me to keep moving forward when the bad stuff comes. I promise to write as much as I can. I will look forward to your letters.

_ Ta léme_,_ agapité mou_,

Spiros


	2. November 1939

8 November 1939

Dear Spiros,

I thought by now surely you would call me Louisa? But if Mrs. Durrells is what you prefer...by all means. Regardless, I am pleased and relieved you not only received my letter, but wrote back so quickly.

Of course I don’t fault you for doing what is best for your children. As for Dimitra’s safety...Spiros, you don’tneed to explain yourself. No matter where you stand from this point forward, she is still the mother of your children and someone you will always care for. She was the love of your life once. I hope you realize I know you well enough to understand that you will always do right by anyone you have ever cared about. You never have to justify your actions to me, especially when it comes to your family.

Tensions continue to rise in England though nothing of note seems to have happened, which gives me the feeling that something dreadful is looming in the distance. I can only hope that things remain tense and no further, though logically I know that is highly unlikely.

I truly enjoyed the Greek included in your letter. It really feels like a piece of Corfu is with me when I see your native tongue scattered in with your English. Perhaps you could attempt to teach me more words via our correspondence? A word of the day perhaps? It might provide us a little fun in the midst of all this chaos.

I hope you are well.

All my love,

Louisa

* * *

23 November 1939

Dear Mrs. Durrells,

I am sorry. For many things. When I read your letter I felt great shame at what you must have been thinking. This time I will explain myself better, even though you did insist I was not _ypochreoménos_ to do so any longer.

It was not my purpose to think you would be upset about the children leaving or the mention of Dimitra’s safety. I just hoped that you would know my reasons for staying in Corfu were not false. I would be worse off as a man if I thought you believed me to be a liar.

If you believed I did not want to come with you, if you believed I stayed to be with Dimitra again, I would be completely _lypiménos katákarda_, Mrs. Durrells.

Mrs. Durrells.

To think that my use of the name I called you for so long was a mistake is proof of my ignorance. I simply did not think, _agapité_ _mou_. But if I am being honest, it was not only stupidity that guided my pen. 

To call you Louisa brings great pain to my heart. It reminds me that our special time together has ended, or is on hold at least. To call you Louisa makes my memories come so fast, and even though they are so good, to know that they are our only memories...it is not something I can allow myself to think about during a time of war. If I did, I do not know that I could find the strength to fight.

So for now, until I am stronger, you must be Mrs. Durrells. But please do not _anisychía_ or have any doubt. You are my Louisa, now and always.

_Ta_ _léme_, _agapité_ _mou_,

Spiros

P.S. Your Greek words of the day are _mou_ _leípeis_ which means “I miss you.”


	3. December 1939

8 December 1939

Dear Spiros,

When I read your letter, I was so overcome with emotion that I sat at the table and wept for a good ten minutes before I could bring myself to reply. I don’t say this to make you feel guilty, but in the spirit of honesty. Not to mention the fact I’m almost certain you know me well enough to realize the affect your tender words have on me, intentional or not.

Knowing the sorrow calling me Louisa brings you...I am terribly sorry for being presumptuous and rather petulant. I would never want to cause you more pain.

Now that I feel more certain things are just as we left them, that nothing has changed, I hope to be more honest and open. It’s an odd thing, but having one small iota of sweetness in our awfully bitter world is something I think we should hold onto. Even though being apart is dreadful, we at least have each other in some small way. And in the darkest of times, we will have a sliver of light to keep us fighting. Something we can cherish forever.

In other news, it seems every time I leave the house, more soldiers and miscellaneous military are out and about. This gives me a sense of foreboding, although that doesn’t mean much coming from me anymore. Essentially everything feels ominous these days, which makes for a rather miserable existence. I hate to be so pessimistic, but there is not much to be optimistic about if we are being honest with ourselves.

Except you.

The children are wonderful of course, but they’re all putting their best efforts into maintaining a sense of normalcy while they still can. Both Margo and Leslie are determined to be part of any war efforts the country begins. Gerry cannot be of much help, but he is very preoccupied with the animals he has accumulated. Have you heard from Larry at all? He has written us, but I didn’t know if the two of you had seen each other. Look after him, will you? If you can. I know he is grown, but as you know, parents always worry for their children.

I doubt I will be able to write to you again before Christmas or the New Year. So in that case, _kalá Christoúgenna_and a happy new year.

All my love,

Louisa

P.S. _Mou leípeis_ too, Spiros

* * *

26 December 1939

Dear Mrs. Durrells,

_Kalá_ _Christoúgenna_! I am pleased with your Greek. You were right in saying it gives us a bit of fun.

_Agapité mou_ I am sorry for your tears. I wish I was there to hold you and take the pain away. I know you feel deeply, so I imagine that the pain of loss and the pain of distance is much for you to carry. It is difficult for me to think of you sad and alone in England. I know you are very strong and _deinós_, but after all you have done, you deserve joy in all things. I hope that one day after the war I can give that to you. Like the day of the play when I told you I know the way to heaven. I will take you there someday, Mrs. Durrells. This is my promise.

As you said about the soldiers in England, it is the same in Corfu. Everyone pretending things are normal because nothing official has taken place. I, like you, am worried that this is...what was it you used to say? The light before the storm?

But your letters continue to make things better for me. The time I spend reading them and then writing a reply gives me my own time away from the bad things in the world. My own _sýmpan_ where only you and I exist. A place where only you and I matter.

_Kalí chroniá, agapité mou_.

_Ta léme_,

Spiros

P.S. Your Greek phrase of the day is _gia pánta stin kardiá mou_, which means “forever in my heart.”


	4. January 1940

11 January 1940

Dear Spiros,

_ Kalí chroniá! _It’s hard to believe we have entered a new decade, and it is very unfortunate that it begins when such unrest is occurring all over the world. That cannot be a good omen can it? Or perhaps it shows that things can only get better from here?

It’s hard to think so with the state of things. Food rations have begun across England. If you thought I was a terrible cook in Greece, you can only imagine the state of my meals during rationing time. Poor Gerry, though I think he is more worried for his animals than himself. I, too, fear for them. They are not my favorite creatures save Roger, but the thought of them being taken from Gerry for meat or clothing…I shudder to think. It was difficult enough for him to leave his zoo, I hate the thought of him watching the government commander his animals for food and clothing scraps. He’ll be scarred for life, my poor sweet boy.

How are things in Greece? Has Larry connected with you yet? I did insist he do so in my last letter, but I know it is hard for him given the nature of his work. Speaking of, I’ve also heard that letters are being more carefully monitored these days, so we will have to be careful with our words. And you know me, I often find my foot in my mouth before I understand how it got there.

The cold has gotten even more stinging and bitter. I long for a nap in the sun near the garden now more than ever. I know things are not easy there, but please soak up as much of it for me as you can. Tell me how things are. If you paint me a picture with your words, on my most dreary days I can imagine Gerry and myself in paradise.

Hope you are well.

All my love,

Louisa

P.S. You are _gia pánta stin kardiá mou, _Spiros. Every moment of every day. Though we are separated in body, we are still very much together in spirit.

* * *

27 January 1940

Dear Mrs. Durrells,

Every letter from you brings great joy to my heart, but to express it in English is a great difficulty. Please allow me to shower you with Greek and we will consider this your Greek lesson.

_Siménis tósa polá ya ména. Íse to fos mu kai íse tóso ómorfos. Me kánis na thélo na yíno kalíteros ánthropos. Skéftomai synechós. Eíste to kalýtero pou mou synévi poté, agapité mou. _

You are very special to me. As you think of Corfu, I think of you. I am driving less so I do not irritate any of the foreign soldiers, but when I am driving, I always find myself at your house or our special place. It is hard for me to believe that you have only been gone for three months. It feels like much longer, _agapité mou. _I am having trouble imagining what being separated for many more months. I am _lypiménos katákarda _thinking of the war lasting three more months, as it will, and even more at the thought of it lasting three more years? Or four? _Eínai tromeró, agapité mou. _But we must _ypoméno. _What choice do we have?

I am sorry for your rationings, for you and Gerrys both. You are not so miserable a cook as you think. It is not simple to cook well in Greece. Perhaps less ingredients will be good for easy cooking? Time will tell, _agapité mou._

Larrys has been with me as he can. He keeps me informed on what is happening on the island, in Greece, and in England. This is a comfort to me in some ways because if there is ever bad news, he can tell me so I am not worried waiting for your next letters. You would be very proud of him, Mrs. Durrells. He is not quite the same moody _gynaikothíra _he was just three months ago. It gives me pride to see the man he has become, but sad to know that war is already changing him. But do not worry, Mrs. Durrells. I will look out for him as best I can, though I am thinking he will be looking out for me more.

Stay safe, _agapité mou. Eíste gia pánta stin kardiá mou. _

_Ta léme,_

Spiros

* * *

29 January 1940

Dear Mrs. Durrells,

I took some time to work out my Greek writings in my last letter. I am sure reading Greek that was meant to be affectionate still warmed you, but I am thinking having a literal translation will make it even better, _agapité mou. _

You mean so much to me. You are my sunshine and you are beautiful. You make me want to be a better man. I am constantly thinking of you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, my dear.

_Ta léme,_

Spiros

P.S. Your Greek phrase of the day is _eísai i kardiá mou_ which means “you are my heart.”


	5. February 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit longer than the others, but you'll see why :)

14 February 1940

Dear Spiros,

This St. Valentine’s Day feels particularly lonely. I am not sure what the Greek tradition is for Valentine’s, but in England romance abounds. The war has made everyone even more lovesick and sentimental. Part of me is happy that the people I see have something pleasant in this dreadful time, but another nasty part of me is disgusted by all the besotted couples walking the street hand in hand. Of course, this is all borne of my own jealousy and longing.

I’m sorry to be so emotional, Spiros, but with tensions continuing to rise with the war and the celebration of St. Valentine’s, I cannot seem to help it. It also doesn’t help that my only company to speak of is Gerry, whose brief dip into the waters of romance is certainly not enough to make him my confidant.

With all the ardor and passion around me, I can’t help but wonder. If I had stayed in Greece, if the war did not exist, would we be walking through the village hand in hand? Would we be sneaking away from the children down to that secluded spot on the beach? Would our friends and family be sick of the sight of our constant affection? Would your children spend time at the villa with my family? Would you have moved into the villa? <strike>Would we have gotten married?</strike>

This day has caused me to dwell so thoughtfully on our last weeks together. Our last months, truly. Even though our beach farewell is so near and dear to my heart, I don’t think it quite tops our circus adventure, despite what came after.

And your Greek sonnet, Spiros. The Greek alone did move my heart and made me feel as if you were right here with me, whispering them in my ear. But to read the translation shortly after…I cannot express in my own words what knowing the depth and truth of them meant to me. Therefore, I shall borrow from a celebrated English poet of the 19th Century, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

_How I thank you for your letter, aver beloved! You were made perfectly to be loved, and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long. Did I tell you that before, so often as I have thought it? _

I know that we have been hesitant to speak (or write?) the words again. Or at least, I have been afraid, though I cannot speak for you. Everything happened so quickly when we departed Corfu. Everyone’s emotions were heightened. Everything felt so urgent, like it was our last chance. Perhaps it was, even if I do not wish it were so.

Nevertheless, everything I felt and said was from the deepest fissures of my heart. Thoughts, feelings, and words that had been hidden away in the darkest abyss of myself finally had their moment to come out into the world. I do not mean to be explicit, but I must speak this truth. Every word I uttered, every touch…I meant it all. With every fibre of my being and all of my soul.

I do not know if the crisis and chaos of it all put you in an odd state. Perhaps you were simply scared of losing us and your love for the family turned itself toward me. I cannot claim to know the depths of your heart, and I dare not hope.

I love you, Spiros. _Eísai i kardiá mou. _Forever and always. No matter what this war brings, I will remain yours, body and soul.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Louisa

* * *

14 February 1940

My dearest Louisa,

Although the Greeks do not quite celebrate the St. Valentine’s Days you had mentioned during your time here, it is still something of an event. It is not really part of Greek Orthodox tradition, but since so many foreigners have come to our lands, some of our people have adopted some of its pieces.

I know the purpose is for the celebration of love and unity, and even though it is supposed to bring joy to us, I cannot help but be sad because I am missing a lovely Englishwoman and know she will be alone on this special day.

If the war had not happened, I am thinking about what we would be doing together. Before, during, and after St. Valentine’s celebrations. I would love to hold your hand in the market. To sneak away with you to the alcove on your beach. To taunt our friends and family with how _storgikós_ we are.

I am not meaning to be not appropriate, Louisa, but on this day especially, I feel I must be truthful.

I wish that I could chase you up the stairs of your villa and take you to bed. That you would give me coffee in the mornings. I wish I could take you to Heaven every day. Every day with you is Heaven.

I have not spoken of our words on the beach because I was not sure if they were meant for the moment or for a lifetime. I know that for me, it was the most natural and true thing in the world.Something I have been wanting to say for many years but could not. Very cruel that our most precious moments together were cut short because of the war.

But I wish to be clear. _S' agapó, _Louisa. I love you. I have heard it said in this way many times before:

_Ekató kardiés tha ítan polí líyes ya na kratísun óli tin agápi mu ya séna, _which means, “a hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you.”

I waited many years and I would wait many more for you. You are the light of my life, _ta ílio kai ta astéria mou. _

My greatest wish is to love you as you deserve as well as I can in my words to you. Then, when the war is over, I will not only love but cherish you with all of myself face to face.

Louisa, _agápi mou. Eísai ta pánta. _

My love. You are everything.

I already hate this war for what it will do to my country and my people. But I hate it most of all for taking you from me.

_S 'agapó tóso polý, agapité mou. Eísai i kardiá mou._

I love you so much, my dear. You are my heart.

With love,

Spiros

P.S. Your Greek word of the day is _adelfí psychí _which means “soulmate.”


	6. March 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the real universe, Louisa and Spiros were in their 50s during this time, but I am fudging their ages to make them 40s.  
I hate to be a cliche, but I truly could not help myself, y'all. It just felt right.

1 March 1940

Dear Louisa,

Tears came to my eyes when I read your letter. It is amazing to me that we truly understand each other so deeply, even though we are far apart. My shock and joy when I read your wishes that perfectly matched my own..._moíra, agapó mou_.

Let me fill your heart with pleasant pictures.

If the war did not exist, I _would_ hold your hand in the market.

We _would _sneak down to the alcove on your beach. At least twice a day.

Our families _would_ beg us to go elsewhere to show our small affections.

I _would_ bathe you with love and adoration that would astonish Aphrodite herself.

I _would_ chase you up the stairs of the villa to our bedroom every night.

We _would_ build another extension to the villa accommodate both our families.

We _would_ have been married in our special place. I know you worked to cross out that part of your letter, but I was able to figure it out, dear Louisa. 

We _would_ sit together near the garden with the sound of Gerrys zoo in the background, you in my arms, taking in the sunset.

And in my deepest heart, as impossible as it is, I cannot help but imagine a child, with my Greek coloring but your lovely English hair and your most beautiful eyes. She sits in my lap and tells us about Gerrys animals. Our child of love. _Éna thávma._

I know this is not possible, but imagining this last thought puts so much hope in my heart for all the different futures we have together. In a world of what ifs and our current reality.

Just know whatever awaits, I am yours, _agápi mou_. When the war is over, our life will begin.

_Gia pánta dikó sas._

Spiros

P.S. Your Greek phrase of the day is _pánta kai gia pánta_ which means “always and forever.”

* * *

14 March 1940

Dearest Spiros,

All I can manage now is a simple I love you. And I miss you so incredibly much.

There is much to discuss for the two of us, but it must wait for the time being. I will write again soon.

You are forever in my heart,_agápi mou. _

_Pánta kai gia pánta,_

Louisa

* * *

25 March 1940

Dear Spiros,

I am sorry for leaving things like that in my last letter, but I was overwhelmed with emotion from your last two letters, and recovering from a bit of a shock.

Given the state of the country and our current predicament, I have found myself to be very tired and emotional. Neither of these things caused me any alarm. Everyone is tired and emotional. How could they not be?

But when my clothes started feeling uncomfortable, I became a little alarmed. With all the rations, how could I have gained an ounce? I was afraid I had been afflicted with some horrible illness, so I saw a physician as soon as I could.

I was lucky Margo was able to accompany me, as I nearly fainted from astonishment.

Are you clairvoyant Spiros? Because these events all happened shortly before I received your letter, and when I read your plans for our alternate life and our current future, I nearly fainted again. How could you have described so perfectly something I, too, had secretly wanted but knew I could not have?

Or so I thought.

You called your dream child a miracle. _Éna thávma._

Do you truly believe in miracles, Spiros? I’ve always been a bit on the fence about it all as I am not entirely sure about coincidences either.

I suppose I have not yet experienced something I thought to be miraculous. One might call our meeting on the dusty road a miracle, but, like you, I prefer to think of that as destiny.

But now…I feel as though I must believe in them. In miracles.

_Éna thávma. _

It’s impossible and yet it’s the truth.

Having a child is incredibly risky given my age, but after having read your letter, I am fully convinced that we have nothing to fear. I will take every precaution, of course, but I feel confident in our child’s ability to live. After all, I cannot believe that the universe is so cruel as to provide us with such a precious gift after tearing us apart, only to rip it away from us as well. I must believe in miracles.

I love you. I cannot say it enough. And now no matter where you are or how long we are parted (Heaven forbid), I will have a piece of you with me always.

_S' agapó. Pánta kai gia pánta. _

Louisa


	7. April 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of winging it when it comes to 1940s women's health and medicine...hopefully it's not too terribly off base.

9 April 1940

My most dear Louisa,

If I did not believe in _moíra _before this time, I most certainly do now. In another twist of _moíra, _Larrys was with me when I opened your letter. His panic when my eyes blew up like balloons and dropped the letter to the floor is something I wish you could have seen. I do not think I have ever seen him move so fast. In his words, he believed I “had some kind of bloody stroke.” He almost had to slap me across my face to bring me back to _pragmatikótita_. When it all settled in…_agápi mou, I léxis den borún na perigrápsun tin agápi mu ya séna—_words cannot describe my love for you.

How did we manage to receive such a precious_ thávma_? After all the bad luck we have had, such a wonderful thing seems too good to be real. But I am also thinking that it is our bad luck that has led us to this place of joy. Surely if things had been simple for us, we could not have been given any more happiness. What more could we want, if all the time we spent together had truly been spent together? Loving each other as we do now for all the years you were in Corfu. So it seems perhaps all the tragedy we have seen has given us something _ypérocho _to reward us for surviving our battles.

I have always believed in miracles. It seems especially fitting to me that you wrote to me about our dream child the day after Easter. Our miracle discovery happening on the same days as another miracle. I do not mean to be _asevís, _I just cannot help but notice the timing of our precious miracle, or at least the discovery of it.

I know it is not usual for a man or father to ask questions or be part of things, but since we are apart, do you think we could…what did you use to say? Stray from the convention? I would like to know some of the things that are happening with you since I cannot see it myself. As happy as I am at this news, it pains my heart to know you will be alone and that I will not get to be there when our child is born, and who can say how long after. Please know, _agápi mou, _if I were with you, I would treat you like a goddess. You would want for nothing. I will do as much as I can until we are together again, even though I know it will be mostly nothing.

Do you hope for a boy or a girl? As most say, either is good as long as they are healthy. But I feel that the child of my hope is a girl. You need another girl, too, _agápi mou. _You have been surrounded by men for too long.

And when I think of another Louisa in the world, it fills my heart with such joy I could burst.

I love you, my Louisa. And I love our miracle of love.

_Pánta kai gia pánta_,

Spiros

* * *

24 April 1940

Dear Spiros,

Your happiness and delight at our news (unsurprisingly) brought tears to my eyes. I did not fear you would be unhappy, but knowing what joy you felt filled me with such relief. And what you said about our bad luck ultimately leading us into something wonderful…it felt poetic.

I would love to include you as much as possible. It has been a very long time since I have done this sort of thing, so having an outlet for my anxieties might be soothing for me, though I will do my best not to provide you with too much information. But as of now, it has become much more obvious to me and others that I am not suffering from an illness. I saw the physician again since my last letter, and he estimates that our child will arrive in late June or early July. He said the baby is healthy and strong, and emphasized those facts in the most polite way possible since I am “old” to be going through this again. But he could not help but keep the surprise out of his voice, though he was very reassuring, which was a surprise to me since my other physicians were not so comforting. Perhaps our new good luck will make everything simple and easy from now on? We can only hope.

Unfortunately, our good luck does not extend to the rest of the world. According to the news, Norway and Denmark have been invaded. I know they are still rather far from England, but it gives me an eerie feeling knowing that the enemy soldiers are coming our way, getting closer to our land. I have never really felt unsafe near the beach before, but knowing what could come onto our shores (and how easily) does nothing for my nerves. I am doing my best to remain calm for my own sake, and for our _thávma. _Oh, I do enjoy writing and saying that much more than “miracle.” It just seems more romantic and fits our child’s mixed heritage well.

I am in agreement with you — I hope for a girl as well. I have a great deal of experience with boys, but I, too, have pictured our dream child as a girl, with my wild hair but colored black like yours, just as you described in your alternate future.

Does your family have a naming tradition? Ours has done a bit, but I think I would be willing to break with it to start our own tradition. Something new for our new family. Regardless, are there names that you hold in your heart? Is that silly to ask?

I would love to write more, but I am exhausted, and I expect I will not become much less so for the next few months.

_S' agapó. Pánta kai gia pánta. _

Louisa (and baby Halikiopoulos)


	8. May 1940

8 May 1940

My dear Louisa,

_Charoúmeni giortí tis mitéras, agápi mou. _Happy Mother’s Day, my love. I know you have celebrated many before, but this time feels very special because it is our holiday together. I wish I was there to shower you with love and gifts. You and our _thávma. _I hope someone is making you both feel special and loved today.

We also have some naming traditions for my family, but I think you are right. Breaking with tradition for something different with our new family is what we should do.

It is not silly to ask, _agápi mou,_about what names are _spoudaíos_ to me. But I am wondering: do you want our _thávma _to have a Greek name or an English one? Selfishly I am wanting something Greek, but I will do whatever your heart desires, _agapité mou_. Latin names are also common among the Greeks. I hope you will allow me this moment of selfishness to share with you names I think would be fitting for our _thávma_, both Greek and Latin.

Greek:

Althea

Calista

Ophelia

Phoebe

Idrea

Thalia

Latin:

Olivia

Dominica

Aurora

Emilia

Arabella

I will also include boys names, even though I feel in my heart our _thávma _is a girl.

Greek:

Adonis

Evander

Nikolas

Latin:

Oliver

Christian

Dominic

Markus

Please share yours with me when you reply, whatever origin they may have. Perhaps we can compare and come to an agreement?

I am worried when I read about the invasions close to you, _agápi mou. _Please stay safe and be well. I am thinking of you always.

_Pánta kai gia pánta,_

Spiros

* * *

22 May 1940

Dear Spiros,

I hope you enjoy the attachments included in this letter. It was terribly awkward to pose in such a way, but Margo was very helpful and encouraging. And all the children agreed that my feeling awkward at being photographed would dissolve as soon as I read your reaction to them.

Regardless, it’s hard to believe our _thávma _has grown so much already since we only just discovered her two months ago. It seems that once she made her presence known to us, she decided to make her presence known to the rest of the world, as I mentioned briefly in my last letter. I feel like a proper bison these days, and my children, when they are around, hardly do much to make me feel less so. But I don’t fault them for it. Most grown children don’t have to deal with their mother providing them with more siblings. One of the many, many reasons I wish you were here with us all.

Sadly, more invasions are surrounding us. Belgium and the Netherlands are the latest to succumb to an Axis power. I continue to do my best in keeping my anxiety at bay, but some days the fear is overwhelming. But our _thávma_ brings me great comfort during these times. Knowing that something good is on the horizon truly helps quash most feelings of doom.

Thinking up names has been tremendously helpful in soothing my nerves as well. And Spiros, I can’t believe you even had to ask. Of course our child will have a Greek name. We would be spitting on our good fortune if we did anything to the contrary. And she was made in Greece after all, if you'll forgive my crudeness. 

I loved reading your list and your idea of comparing. When you write next, why don’t you make a new list of three choices from each of our lists? Then we can both narrow it down before the time comes.

Greek:

Athena

Alexandra

Cassandra

Iris

Penelope

Latin:

Miranda

Natalia

Stella

Emily

Violet

And to be honest, I couldn’t bring myself to look at boys names because I am simply too exhausted. Yours will be fine if that is the case, though, like you, I still share the notion that our _thávma_ is a girl, in case you didn’t notice me referring to her as such earlier in this letter.

We are staying as safe as we can. You stay safe as well, my dear. We all love and miss you dreadfully.

_S' agapó. Pánta kai gia pánta. _

Louisa and baby Halikiopoulos


	9. June 1940

5 June 1940

My dearest Louisa,

You cannot imagine the joy I felt at viewing your photographs. I had to take a few minutes to myself before looking at them again because my tears made my vision blur. _Íse tóso ómorfos, agápi mou_. You are so beautiful, my love. I did not think it was possible for you to become more beautiful to me, or that my heart could be filled with more love, but the perfect pictures you have sent me show how deeply wrong I was.

My heart aches to be with you both, _agápi mou. _I long for the day we can be together again, or for the first time in some cases. _Siménis tósa polá ya ména_. You mean so much to me, the both of you. And your other children as well. Your descriptions of them in your letter made me laugh and remember our times together with fondness.

Thank you for allowing our _thávma _to bear a Greek name. I know you say it is what it right, but you must know how much it means to me, _agápi mou, _that our child will be a reflection of her home.

My final list does not include the boys names. I am glad we are in agreement on that. And I am sure whatever you choose will be perfect for our _thávma._

Althea

Calista

Iris

Olivia

Miranda

Aurora

Please let me know as soon as she arrives. I know it is approaching quickly. I love you, my Louisa. You are a brave warrior goddess and it is a great feeling of _timó_ that I may call you mine.

_Sas skéftomai synechós, agápi mou._

Spiros

* * *

20 June 1940

Dear Spiros,

It seems the children were right. All my bad feelings about the photographs vanished when I read your (overly) kind words. You have always known just what to say to make me feel wonderful.

Before I start in with all the good news, I must mention the bad: the French surrender nearly a week ago. I could hardly believe it when I saw the newspaper. France under German occupation. You could practically swim from Bournemouth to the French coast, and there have been bombings everywhere.

I’m afraid, Spiros. So far we seemed to have escaped much of the horror, but how much longer can that be true? Surely no one will come out of this conflict unscathed. And what of our _thávma?_Having a child is frightening enough, but I am truly terrified of bringing her into this world. If only she could have known the world from the peace and bliss of Corfu as it was before the war.

I wish you were here, Spiros. More than ever before. You say that I am brave, but I feel anything but. I feel anxious and nervous and scared. All of the confidence and certainty of these last few months seems to have dissipated into mist and drifted away. I am not sure how I will manage this on my own. But manage I will. What choice do I have? I simply must cling on to the small sparks of hope within me that are fueled by my love for you and our child.

I’m sorry for filling this letter with such malaise when there should be such joy to be had. But after all the terrible events of these last few weeks (months, truly), they had to be said eventually.

Now onto happier matters.

I have decided I will not share my final lists with you. I will, however, let you know that our lists share a few similarities. And I must say, I particularly like Althea because it feels like a way to honor Theo. He did so much for us, Gerry especially, and I think it would be nice to thank him in this way.

But ultimately, I will keep it all a surprise since our lists have a few commonalities. Despite my fearful ramblings in this letter, I cannot wait to meet our _thávma. _I also cannot wait to be comfortable again as well if I am being truthful.

All my love,

Louisa and baby Halikiopoulos


	10. June 1940 Part II

29 June 1940

Dear Spiros,

Four days ago, on 25 June 1940, Althea Miranda Halikiopoulos was born. She is a chubby little thing and could not be more sweet or beautiful. She is exactly as we imagined, Spiros. Already a head of black hair, beautiful olive skin, and hazel eyes. She is practically perfect in every way.

I have loved all off my children on sight, Spiros, but holding our sweet Thea is truly magical. I still cannot believe we created her. Our _thávma, _who finally has a face and a name. I chose her name after comparing our lists, but also because of their meanings.

Althea — to heal

Miranda — wonderful

I thought these were the best way to describe what she is to us. She is our healer, the way we have eased our pain of separation and how we will continue to bear being apart. She has soothed our wounds of loss.

And wonderful. She is wonderful at this moment and all the moments to come. She is a marvel.

Our wonderful healer.

Her arrival was surprisingly smooth and easy as far as these things go. Certainly much less of an ordeal than my other four children. The physicians made even more of a point about how my age should’ve made things very difficult for everyone, but all the things they had been afraid of did not happen. Not even for a moment, they said, did they notice something irregular. They thought it was quite miraculous, which, to us, is no surprise.

My bliss is only tainted by the fact that you are not here with us. I know you would move heaven and earth to come if you could. I know it is not your fault and I don’t hold a bit of blame against you. I just wish you were here.

You would be so in love, Spiros. As you said before, I did not think it was possible to love you more. But the moment they placed Thea in my arms my heart nearly burst from the overwhelming feelings of joy and love.

I hope that you can be with us sooner rather than later. I will try and find a way to get some photographs of her taken so you can see for yourself how lovely she is.

Our _thávma. _

Althea Miranda Halikiopoulos.

Oh, how wonderful it is to write her name. She is real and safe and healthy, and I am so incredibly thankful.

I love you and I miss you terribly.

Thea sends all her love to her _bampás._

Farewell for now, my love,

Louisa and Thea


	11. July 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants some melancholy??? :)

13 July 1940

My most dear Louisa,

There is no way to describe in English or Greek the great feelings within my heart, but I will try my best.

_Agápi mou. Elpída mou. Polyagapiméni mou. Megalýteri eftychía mou. Eísai ta pánta. Anása mou. Ton aéra mou. I psychí mou. I léxis den borún na perigrápsun tin agápi mu ya séna, agapité mou. I kardiá mou xecheilízei me chará kai agápi, gia sena kai i kóri mas. To thávma mas, to paidí mas tis agápis. To kýpello mou tréchei, agápi mou. Oi dýo mou agapoún. I megalýteri chará tis zoís mou, ta agapiména mou. S’agapó tóso polý. S’agapó, S’agapó, S’agapó. Eísai i zoí mou. _

My love. My hope. My dearest. My greatest happiness. You are everything. My breath. My air. My soul. Words cannot describe my love for you, my dear. My heart overflows with joy and affection for you and our daughter. Our miracle, our child of love. My cup runneth over, my love. My _two_ loves. You are the greatest joy of my life, my darling. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are my life.

My pride and happiness could fill the Mediterranean for two lifetimes. But my heart longs to be with you and our _thávma,_ our Thea.

Her name is _teleiótita, agapité mou. _Perfect, my dear. You know my heart so well and she is wonderful. My only wish is that I was there with you. I hope that my words can be a good placeholder until we can be a family in body as well as spirit.

I pray every moment for that day to come soon. I do not know if my heart and soul could bear being parted from my darlings for much longer.

I am sorry to be sad when we have so much to be thankful for. I am feeling much _chamolýpi_ at our joyous news. How will I survive, _agápi mou_, if I cannot hold my _thygatéra_ in my arms for many years? If she must grow up without a father? How can I live knowing I cannot have you with me?

What if I must live three or more years without knowing her? Without glancing upon your breathtaking smile or hear your melodious laugh? I cannot bear the thought, _agapité mou. _It is death by a thousand cuts.

I will keep the thought of you close always so I can find the strength to continue fighting, both in mind and in the battles to come. Tell me all there is to tell of our precious Thea so I may keep these treasures in my heart.

_Sas efxaristó, agápi mou. _Thank you, my love. For giving me the greatest gift of my life. Like you, I have loved all my children, but our Thea is very special to me.

I am thinking of you both always.

I love you, my Louisa.

My Thea.

_Pánta kai gia pánta,_

Spiros

P.S. Being called _bampás_ in your letter nearly brought me to my knees. _Mou leípeis. S’agapó._

* * *

28 July 1940

Dear Spiros,

Just when I think your letters cannot possibly make me feel more emotional or make me love you more, you shower me with words fit for a poetry volume. Have you considered this as an alternative career? Never mind, I want your words to only be mine.

I used Leslie’s old Greek to English dictionary to concoct some verse of my own, but I know that it will not be nearly as eloquent as yours.

_Se agapáme_, _Spiros. Bampás. Sas efchómaste na eíste edó. Mas leípete tóso polý kai skefteíte sychná. _

We love you, Spiros. Papa. We wish you were here. We miss you so much and think of you often.

It is hard to believe she is already one month old. It has gone by so quickly. She becomes more sweet and beautiful each day. I hope to have some photographs for you soon, my dearest. You would be more smitten with each passing moment.

I am sorry for your melancholy. I wish I could take your pain away. It feels especially cruel that, despite how wonderful our sweet Thea is, she is here with me and you are alone. My heart breaks for you.

I do not wish to invalidate your pain, but it is difficult for me as well, to find a part of me you didn’t take up. But in those moments of sorrow, I cling onto our _thávma_ and thank the heavens I can hold her in my arms. I am so sorry, Spiros, that you must bear this loneliness. If I could do anything to ease your ache, I would. I wish desperately Thea and I could risk the ferry and be with you in Greece, but I know this would be a terrible mistake, even though being reunited would make it all seem worthwhile.

There continue to be bombings all over the country. I cannot tell you how frightening it is to do safety drills with Thea. I worry for her constantly. My only consolation is that she will, hopefully, spend most of her life not living in a world like this. Surely this is the worst it can get?

We love you so much, Spiros. _I _love you so much. To the stars and back again. Someday we will be together as a family and our happiness will overpower the sun.

Please be safe and take care of yourself. Thea needs her _bampás _to teach her Greek so she does not look as foolish as her mother when she goes with you to the market.

I wish I could do more to ease your pain. I know words are not enough. Just know that as happy as I am with Thea, it all feels somewhat meaningless without you. I can’t help but think of Charlotte Brontë.

_Happiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste._

Our world is dull and tasteless without you. We wait upon baited breath to be swathed in color and spice once more.

_Eímaste pánta dikoí sas, agapitoí. _

All our love and then some,

Louisa and Thea

* * *

31 July 1940

Spiros,

My children never fail to surprise me. Somehow they managed to put together their money and purchase their own camera without me knowing. They have been discreetly taking photographs for the last month. I nearly wept looking at them, so I hope they can bring you some comfort and and joy as well.

Allow yourself some time to revel in the utter perfection of our _thávma. _

All our love,

Louisa and Thea (along with Margo, Gerry, and Leslie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Taylor Swift for the song "Death By a Thousand Cuts" which I borrowed a few lyrics from.


	12. August 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a posting binge this evening because I have a lot of World Series Game 6 feelings, so I'm channeling them into my writing. *sigh* Louisa and Spiros can't disappoint me like the Astros can.

14 August 1940

My dear Louisa and _glykiá mou_ Thea,

The photographs were beautiful, my dears. My poor spirits were lifted to the clouds when they fell into my lap. I sat with them for a long while before beginning a reply, and I have plans to look at them more when I finish writing.

Louisa, _agápi mou_, you are the most stunning being I have ever seen. How is it possible that you are even more beautiful in these photographs than when I saw you last? Being a mother agrees with you very well it seems. Or being a mother to a child and not four crazy teenagers.

I tease, _agápi mou. _You have always been beautiful. But something about our Thea has made you radiant, like all the light in the world is illuminated through your soul.

_Glykiá mou_ Thea. My sweet Thea. She is exactly as you described and more. She is so _ntelikátos_ it took my breath for a moment. The ancient artists of Greece would not be able to do her justice. How did we become so fortunate that she is our _thávma_? I truly look back on our unfortunate circumstances and thank the gods she is the result.

I shared your photographs with Larrys as well. He, too, seems most proud of his new sister. Do not tell her I am repeating this, but he said Thea is much better looking than Margo as a baby. I am sorry for Miss Margo, but it did give me a laugh. Please thank her, Leslie, and Gerrys for me. The photographs are truly perfect.

Larrys has kept me informed on the bombings just as you have. I am so worried for you both, _agápi mou. _I know there is nothing more we can do, but asking you to be safe gives me better feelings.

I noticed that I have not said much of what is happening in Greece, but much is the same. Everyone ready for fighting at any moment, but mostly just lots of tension and animosity. I hope it does not come to fighting, though I know it is only a matter of time.

Please give Thea a kiss from her _bampás. _

_Pánta kai gia pánta,_

Spiros

* * *

29 August 1940

Dear Spiros,

Your daughter and I send our best wishes. I can hardly believe she is two months old. She is growing like a weed and continues to become more beautiful. It’s alarming, really. Perhaps some Ancient Greek magic was somehow part of her creation and thus blessed her with beauty to rival Aphrodite. That’s the only explanation. I have never seen another baby as lovely as her. But of course, I am extremely biased.

You would be enamored with her little babbles and tiny movements. She is utterly fascinating. My heart feels so conflicted thinking about the two of you interacting. How wonderful it would be, but how bitter it is that you are not here with us.

It is for the best, as much as it pains us. Bombings continue to get worse in England. Tensions rising in Greece gives me great discomfort on your behalf, but I shudder to think what state you would be in if you were fighting here.

I apologise for such a short letter. As delightful as your daughter is, she has not quite mastered her sleep schedule yet. She is not nearly as bad as Larry was, but this week has been particularly troublesome for her. But it’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure. After all, she cannot be completely perfect in every conceivable way. Some flaws are inevitable.

We love you and miss you terribly.

_Pánta kai gia pánta,_

Louisa and Thea

P.S. The children were very pleased that you enjoyed the photographs so much. Leslie also wanted me to play telephone and tell you to tell Larry to get his own camera. That way you can send us photographs as well. I would so love to show Thea her _bampás_ while I’m telling her all about you. See if it’s possible?

xx


	13. September 1940

12 September 1940

My dear ones,

I have seen the news of many night bombings over England. Please write to let me know you are both alright. I know it may take some time. Just know I am waiting for you always.

_Sas skéftomai synechós, agapó mou._

Spiros

P.S. Can it be true that Jews are made to wear yellow stars to identify themselves? What can it mean?

* * *

28 September 1940

My loves,

Larrys has told me that he believes you are both safe, and that it is likely difficult to send mail, or that you may not receive my letters until much later. I am just writing to let you know I am thinking of you.

The Italians are becoming more upset around Greece. Still no fighting, but I fear it will happen soon.

_S' agapó, _my dear Louisa and sweet Thea.

Spiros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope interest won't decline if we go through the end of the war. I'm going to do my best to keep things as interesting and historically accurate as possible.


	14. October 1940

12 October 1940

My darlings,

I hope to hear from you soon. Larrys continues to tell me the chances of the two of you being harmed are very small, but still I worry. He says he feels certain he would have heard if his mother had been a casualty of a bombing from a month ago. Just writing the possibility hurts me deeply.

Today is 12 October. One year since we were parted. How can it be possible? It seems like both a lifetime ago and only yesterday. How could we have known what awaited us? This makes me think about what may await us in the future. I hope and pray for only good things, but as the war continues to drag on, my faith begins to feel not so strong.

This especially because the Italians have started to invade Greece. I knew it was only a matter of time, but now that it is here, I feel shocked and surprised. I am glad there has not yet been any real battling yet, but since we are so close to Albania, I feel like Corfu will soon be…what was it you said? In the thick of it?

Be well, my loves.

_Sas skéftomai synechós, _

Spiros

* * *

31 October 1940

Dearest Spiros,

I am terribly, terribly sorry for not being able to reply to your letters. Larry was correct in saying that your letters were not only delayed, but it was nearly impossible to get mail out.

The bombings continue and feel as though they are getting closer to home. Oh, Spiros, I don’t know what we will do if we are forced to evacuate. I know it would be in everyone’s best interest, but the thought of Thea being crammed into a safe place with so many strangers is a dreadful thought. What if an illness spreads? How could I take care of her under those circumstances? I know it is not rational, but I can’t help but feel that the safest place for her is here. I hesitate to say “at home” because it still does not feel that way. She may have been born here, but Greece will always be her home.

The thought of Corfu being occupied by the Italians breaks my heart. I do not want the Corfiots to suffer under a barbaric rule or lose their lives in battle. I know you will do what is right, which makes me worry even more. Please stay safe, Spiros. We could not bear to lose you.

We love you and miss you.

Thea sends her _bampás_ 121 kisses for the number of days she has been with us. Four months. It seems impossible. She is lovely as ever, just missing her _bampás. _When we left Corfu a year ago, I never would’ve imagined she was possible.

All our love,

Louisa and Thea

P.S. I cannot believe what is being done to the Jewish community. I am not sure what it all means, but marking them and their businesses so clearly cannot possibly mean anything good.


	15. November 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on the feels train, as I just completed my legal watch of the final two episodes. You wouldn't believe the difference it makes to see it all clearly. I definitely was weeping alone on the couch. Well not completely alone, my dog kept me company.
> 
> ANYWAY, who wants to start a Kickstarter for a PBS/ITV Durrells Christmas Special reunion? Historical accuracy be damned!

15 November 1940

My darlings,

The news has said there was a bombing in Coventry that was very bad. It seems they are not sure of the casualties, so I am writing in the hopes that it has not had any harm to you both in any way. I confess I am not an expert in British geography, so I do not know for certain how close or far this is to you.

I hope you are safe and well, _agápes mou_.

There is much unrest in Greece as well. But these tales can wait until I hear that you are safe. I am hoping Larrys will be able to tell me more soon.

_Eísai ta agapiména mo kai s 'agapó. _

Spiros

30 November 1940

* * *

Dearest Spiros,

We are safe. Coventry is roughly 150 miles north of where we are. The casualties look to be minimal, but the destruction is ghastly. I cannot believe this is what we have come to again. I thought surely after the Great War, nothing of the sort could happen again. But this looks to be on the exact same path, if not something worse.

Oh, Spiros, I hope you are safe. I have read news of Greece fighting the Italians and it nearly stops my heart. I know you will do right by your country, which is why I’m so dreadfully worried. This extends to Larry as well. God knows what he’s gotten himself into. Please take care of each other as best you can.

We love you. Please be safe.

_Eíste o kósmos mas. _How’s that for a bit of Greek?

All our love,

Louisa and Thea


	16. December 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested, I've made a googledoc with the rough translations of the Greek I've been attempting to use. I'll update it as we go :)
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/10lUZSsmOd9qtR-noIU3aij7_gH96k6vI2qOkbhJp8lo/edit?usp=sharing

10 December 1940

Dear Spiros,

I had the children take some photographs of Thea in her Christmas outfits. I hope they will reach you before the holiday. I thought they would be as good a gift as anything else. I wish we could be together.

You’ll hardly believe how much she has grown. On Christmas Day she will be six months. Where has the time gone?

I can only hope for the sake of the war’s end that time continues to rush past us.

We love you. I know there is still fighting between the Greeks and Italians. Keep us in your heart so that you can come back to us.

_Kalá Christoúgenna, agápi mou. _

All our love,

Louisa and Thea

* * *

30 December 1940

My darlings,

I have heard that London was badly bombed only last night. I do not know for certain how far this is from you, but for such a prominent city to have received such an attack is _foverós. _It can only get worse.

This is the only thing that has dampened my holiday spirits, though it is a very big thing. Your photographs were the most precious gift I have ever been given, after the subject herself. I cannot believe how big she is getting. 

I hope you are both well and safe.

I have not yet been drawn into fighting, but I suspect it will happen soon. I wish I could turn away for your sakes, but you know I cannot betray my country this way.

I will do everything I can to make sure we are together again.

_S’agapó tóso polý, agápes mou,_

Spiros


	17. January 1941

14 January 1941

Dear Spiros,

We are all alright, just badly shaken and scared. I am sorry we could not write you sooner. I do hope Larry has kept you from worrying too much. 

Spiros, will this war ever end? I pray that it will, but it only seems to be getting worse.

We love you and miss you. So much.

Louisa and Thea

P.S. I wish I could say_ kalí chroniá_ but it's really not happy at all, is it?


	18. February 1941

12 February 1941

My darlings,

I am glad you are safe. I am sorry for not being able to write you again. There has been much taking place in Greece that has taken up my attentions.

We are still fighting with the Italians, but they have not yet completely succeeded in beating us back. This feels like good news, but I know that we cannot possibly hold them back forever, especially if any of their allies join in the fight. We have been lucky that it has only been Italians so far.

How can it be that so much good and so much bad has happened since the last St. Valentine’s we wrote each other? I know it is not for a few days still, but it will have passed by the time this reaches you.

In our last Valentine’s letters, we were filled with much hope and love, so unaware of what the future would bring. Dear Thea was already with us but we did not yet know. We were so hopeful that the war would not continue much longer. So now in this next year, I am thinking how happy I am for our Thea, but how terrible the war has become.

I wonder too, _agápi mou_, if it will ever end. It seems…what did you say? One step forwards and two steps backward? When something good occurs, it is quickly overtaken by something worse than before.

My heart breaks for my country and for yours. For the young boys at war and the young girls at home. For the Jewish peoples who are under such _leptomerís élenchos_ and unfairly treated.

But as selfish as it may be, my heart breaks most of all for us not being together. Sometimes when I look at the photographs of our darling Thea, my heart is pained so much it is hard to find breath. And when I think of you, I am nearly brought to my knees.

_To váthos tou mou leípei esý eínai megalýtero apó óles tis thálasses, agápi mou. _The depth of my missing you is greater than all the seas, my love.

But even with all the bad things in the world, my love for you, dear Louisa, is still growing. I love you more today than yesterday. But, my darling, not as much as tomorrow or the many years to come.

Please give our Thea many kisses and hugs from her _bampás. _

_Pánta kai gia pánta,_

Spiros

P.S. I felt very silly with Larrys taking my photograph, but knowing they would bring joy to you and _glykiá mou_ Thea helped me feel less foolish.

* * *

27 February 1941

Dear Spiros,

Thea sends all the hugs and kisses she can muster to her very beloved (and dashingly handsome) _bampás. _Thank you for the photograph. How is it you look exactly the same as the day you found us on the road? Drinking from a fountain of youth, perhaps? With everything that has happened since we left Corfu, I feel as though I’ve aged about thirty years. I wouldn’t dare send you a photograph for fear of scaring you away. You’d think I’d sent you a photograph of my grandmother.

Some of your letter came out censored, I’m afraid, so I’ll just have to draw my own conclusions. I won’t voice them here for fear of our letters being censored further, but I think I can safely say I understand what you were trying to tell me. Please be safe, darling.

I am not nearly so eloquent as you, but I am thankful every day that you are blessed with the ability to make everything feel alright again with just a few words. As I said, there’s no possible way for me to match it, but I will try my best.

When I read your words of poetry, I feel like I can hear you speaking to me, across the deep blue ocean of Corfu, and I picture our blissful days under its open skies. I hear your words in my dreams, like a whisper across the sea. I keep them with me in my heart, every minute of every day. They make things seem easier when life gets hard.

I feel so lucky to be in love with my best friend, _o kalýterós mou fílos. _And despite all of the bad, I feel lucky to have been where we have been. Because we ended up here, with our sweet Thea. Things would be so, so much better if you were with us, but all the same, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. This small slice of Heaven.

Well that’s quite enough of me waxing poetic.

I love you, darling. _Adelfí psychí mou._

All our love,

Louisa and Thea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Spiral Starecase and Colbie Caillat, both of whom I've borrowed song lyrics from, and to The Fault in Our Stars by John Green for the little infinity.


	19. July 1941

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I WAS going to take a bit of a break, but the feels of finishing the series paired with my dear Astros losing the world series has led me to drowning my sorrows in more writing.

1 July 1941

Dear Spiros,

How dreadful these last few months have been. It seemed every time I sat to write you, another ghastly event took place. In March, Buckingham Palace was damaged in one of the London bombings, which put the country on even higher alert. There were several more bombings around the United Kingdom, including a major shipping area in Scotland. Perhaps worst of all, though, were the air raids in Portsmouth, just fifty miles away. Many dead and hundreds injured and homeless. So many explosions. I swear we could feel them from here. Poor Thea knew things were awry and didn’t stop crying for days. Nevertheless, I was still glad to hold her in my arms whilst the planes flew over us. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard such an awful and terrifying sound in my life.

All this followed by more bombings in London and Liverpool in April and May. I don’t know how I’ll handle more night air raids like this, especially if more come within fifty miles of us. Could we be next?

Clothes rationing has started as well. On the surface it doesn’t seem like anything much, but knowing how dire things must be for us to be at this point…it’s incredibly ominous, though I didn’t think it could be any more so.

But this all seems next to nothing compared to what I have read in the news about Greece. I was so proud that the island held out for so long, but once Salonika and Crete were taken…Oh, Spiros, I hope you’re alright. Please write us soon.

Despite all the bleakness of these last few months, we still made an effort to have a birthday celebration for Thea. I think we all needed something to lift our spirits. The children took some photographs which unfortunately include me in them as well. Thea was so pleased with her makeshift cake. I rather was, too, if I’m being honest. Watching her plump little fists shove little bites into her mouth is a memory I will cherish most dearly, especially during times like this. I hope the photographs can lift your spirits as well.

Be safe, my darling. Thea sends 12 months worth of kisses to her _bampás._

All our love,

Louisa and Thea

* * *

23 July 1941

Dear Spiros,

I know it is likely next to impossible for mail to arrive on time, if at all, given the current state of Greece, but not hearing from you or Larry has put my poor nerves over the edge. Thea can tell something is amiss. She has been fussy for the last week. She is sleeping better than she did previously, somehow, but her temperaments have been so sour. If she wasn’t eating or sleeping well I would be worried she was falling ill. But she has no fever, her bodily functions are normal, her appetite is fine, and her sleep is normal, so the only explanation is that she knows how worried I am for her _bampás. _

I show her your photograph every night and tell her the story of how we came to be, minus all the salacious bits of course. Well, mostly minus the salacious bits. Some of them are too wonderful to be kept secret, and she is just a baby after all. I doubt she’ll remember most of it.

We hope you are safe and well, my dear. We both love you so much.

Louisa and Thea

* * *

29 July 1941

Dear Spiros,

I know you will not have received my last letter yet, but I could not wait for your reply. You will not believe what has happened.

I was showing Thea your photograph and telling our story once more, when she pointed at you and said, “_Bampás?”_

Her first words, Spiros! She’s been babbling and making word-adjacent sounds for months, but this was clear as day.

I nodded and said, “Yes. _Bampás. _Your papa.” Then she looked at me and said, “_Mitéra?” _

I nearly died of shock. Leslie, Margo, and Gerry must be teaching her more Greek when I am preoccupied with some task or another.

Of course, no surprise to anyone, this brought tears to my eyes. I kissed her sweet, chubby hands and pointed to myself, “Yes, darling. _Mitéra. _Mama.”

I cannot believe she knows us. Her papa and mama. Oh, how I long for her to see her papa in person and smother him with kisses. I long for that myself as well.

I hope you are safe, dearest.

We love you.

Louisa and Thea


	20. August 1941

18 August 1941

Dearest Louisa and Thea,

All is well with me. I have been in the middle of some of the fighting but have not been harmed, at least not with anything serious. I have some cuts and bruises, but nothing to be concerned with, _agápi mou. _I am sorry all the fighting delayed your letters and made you worry.

As you must have read, the fighting in Greece has been very bad for many months. The Axis powers became more present in Albania in March and the Germans took Salonika in April. Many people were evacuated to Crete, which, at the time, seemed the safest place. Many of the Allied armies were there to help us. But then Athens fell to the Germans and we were forced to surrender. Not long after, Crete was taken as well, and in June, all the Allied forces had withdrawn. I do not blame them for this, but I cannot help but be a little bitter that our help is gone.

Now there is just fighting here and there. I try to stay out of what I can, but I also do my duty when it is necessary.

I do not know what will happen now, _agápi mou. _Being completely under the control of Germany, Italy, and their allies is not something that will be easy or without damage. I pray that Corfu will be safer than other parts of Greece. We have been luckier than most in some ways.

All of these things are very bad and these last months have been _polý áthlia_, but the photographs from Thea’s birthday celebrations were a true ray of sunshine in my storm. She is such a_ ómorfi kopéla _and she has grown so much. I cannot believe she has such a beautiful mess of black curls already, and her eyes are beautiful, too, just like her mother’s.

As beautiful as she is, _agápi mou, _seeing you in those photographs stole the breath from me. I did not take your words of aging like a _giagiá_ to heart, but when I saw these photographs, I could not believe my eyes. You are more _ekpliktikí_ than ever, my Louisa. If this is what _giagiás _in England look like, I have had the wrong picture in my head for many years. You look nothing like my _giagiá, agápi mou. _

Seeing you both smiling brought so much joy to my heart, even though there is also so much pain in not being with you. But it is just a moment of sadness in the middle of a lifetime of treasures.

There are not words to describe how happy I am knowing her first words were not only Greek, but _bampás_ and _mitéra_. The knowledge that she still has so much Greek culture with her means so much to me, _agapité mou_. I long for the day I can teach her more Greek words and tell her our story for myself. I will not hide any of the _lágnos _parts_. _You can both blame me if she repeats anything.

I am imagining you holding back a smile at this, _agápi mou. _Picture me looking at you as I did when I promised to take you to heaven, _me fotiá kai lagneía. _

I hope to hear from you soon, _agapiména mou_.

_S’agapó tóso polý_,

Spiros


	21. October 1941

12 October 1941

Dear Spiros,

We are glad you are well. Thea says, “Hello!” to her _bampás_. Or close to hello anyway. It’s more like, “hell!” which is terribly funny. I should discourage it and work more diligently to correct her, but we could all use a laugh these days, and she’s just so delightfully sweet when she says it. How could I scold her?

I wish I could have written sooner, but I received a letter from Larry saying things were likely going to be quite chaotic in Greece during September, so I decided to wait for fear of letters being lost or simply undelivered.

Things are the same here, which, sadly, feels nearly like a relief after all the disarray the past 10 months. But it seems that tensions have really been boiling over in Greece if what Larry and the papers tell me are true. I won’t say more so nothing gets censored. Just know we are thinking of you and praying you are safe and unharmed.

I’m so worried, Spiros. If my worry and anxieties were currency, we’d be the richest couple in Europe.

Couple.

Despite everything, it’s odd to assign us that moniker. After all, the only time we have spent _together_ together was just a few hours. Of course we had many years of…entanglement, but even though it had some wonderful moments, I hardly think it counts since it was mostly made up of all the “wanting, longing, and crying,” as I so emotionally put it. Though come to think of it, our current state has been made up mostly of the same, except it’s much worse.

It’s almost funny, I think. I thought nothing could be more frustrating or agonizing than all that time we spent dancing around each other. There was always a good reason, and I know we did our best to keep a respectful distance; “this far and no further.” But Sven and Hugh and Dimitra and all the other things that kept us apart don’t invalidate what we felt. I know you still feel a great deal of shame over it all because you are a good and loyal man. It was (is) one of the things I love (and hate) most about you.

And now it’s the war that’s keeping us apart. Something we can do nothing about. It cannot reveal it is homosexual. It cannot break off an engagement or grant a divorce. It cannot acquiesce us one basic request: stop. All we can do is sit and wait, or, in your case, fight until someone else declares it done. How dreadfully unfair is that? Is this my punishment for loving a married man? Is it yours for loving me back? Did my lack of control over my feelings curse our relationship? Are we doomed?

I’m sorry to be so cynical. I know you are suffering far more than I am, but realizing we have been apart for two years with no end in sight fills me with indescribable anguish. Not knowing whether you will live or die, whether or not Thea will know her _bampás_. Will we have a chance to truly be a couple or will everything we have be just a memory? A few stolen moments of joy in the past?

But there is some joy to be had, I think. I have to think so. Thea exists. Our _thávma_. She is still growing every day. She’s learning more Greek and English as well. She’s gotten _bampás_ and _mitéra, _of course, but now she can also use “daddy,” “papa,” and “mama.” As I mentioned, we are working on “hello.” She can wave goodbye, but can’t quite get the words; it sounds like “gub.” Her siblings (still so bizarre to think of them this way) are trying to teach her the Greek for brother and sister, and Gerry is trying to teach her animal names. She’s going to have the largest vocabulary in the history of toddlers. Wouldn’t we be lucky to have created a genius?

Oh, Spiros. If I could only hear your voice. Are the telephone shops still operating there? Can they make international calls? It would be a dream.

We love you. I love you. So much it’s truly painful at times.

Be safe.

Louisa and Thea

* * *

30 October 1941

My dearest girls,

_S 'agapó tóso polý, agapiména mou_. I love you so much, my darlings.

Reading of your sadness broke my heart into a thousand pieces, my love. Thinking of your tears in England cuts deeper than swords. I hope it is a small comfort to you that I am not happy without you here in Greece. Even without the war, the island is not the same without your presence. At times, I think I see your hair flying behind you around a street corner. It’s everywhere.

I am missing your bed.

I never sleep.

I avoid the spots where we used to speak.

I read your letters over again and there’s not a word I comprehend except where you signed it “I will love you always and forever.”

I need you like I need the breath for my lungs. Each day that passes without holding or knowing my daughter is agony. I also worry for Larrys every day. I am thankful that my other children are safe.

I do not wish to make you more unhappy thinking of my sadness, but I feel that maybe there can be some kind of pleasure taken from mutual sorrow.

I love you, Louisa. I know it is very difficult right now, but I cannot believe that we will never be together again. I do not believe this s our punishment for falling in love. I think it is a terrible test of our love, one we will pass with all the colors. I think when this is finished, we will know nothing but joy. I do believe it, Louisa. We will be a family. A true family. After the war is over, we will be together in all ways, including husband and wife. I wish it had been possible to marry you the moment you found me on the beach. It is all I have wanted for longer than I can say. No matter if the war took you from me, no matter if we had not been blessed with Thea, no matter if the sun stopped shining and all the seas went dry, I would make you my wife. As soon as we can, _agapité mou_, it will be done. These many years will not have been in vain.

Things in Greece are indeed very tense. The people are starting their own fighting companies against our enemies. I was approached to join one of the liberation groups, but I said I could not. I told them I would not stand in their way, but I could not fight for them. As much as I want to do everything I can to help my country, if there is something that puts me at a greater risk, I feel I cannot do it for your sakes. I am still doing what is possible without joining guerrilla groups. I won’t say more so I am not getting anyone into trouble.

I will ask at the _tilefoniká katastímata_. I still know some people in Corfu town who might be able to help. Hearing your voice…I cannot even describe what it would mean for me.

I love you. It has been a hard two years, but I am still grateful for what it has brought us.

_Eísai i zoí mou, ta ílio kai ta astéria mou. _

Spiros

P.S. Please know that I do not feel shame for loving you. Only regret that I could not be honest with myself sooner. If I had, I would have saved not only Dimitra a great deal of hurt, you would have been spared all that pain as well. All I have ever wanted was to love you and make you happy. I am only sorry I did not do it fast enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Screaming Infidelities by Dashboard Confessional for lyrics I borrowed


	22. December 1941

13 December 1941

Dear Spiros,

I cannot tell you how much hearing your voice has helped us get by the last two months. It seems almost like I imagined the whole exchange. Were we really speaking for 10 entire minutes? I’m sorry I cried for five of them, though allowing Thea to talk and babble with you was truly a wonderful sight to behold. You must believe me when I say she has _never_ spoken so much in her life. She certainly was ready to speak to her _bampás. _Can you believe she just knew it was you on the other end?

I hope we can do it again sometime. I know it was a challenge, but if there is ever an opportunity, please ring us. We will be sitting by the phone almost always between now and the war’s end, should it ever come.

Not that I had expected things to get better, but the terrible bombing in the United States has dampened my spirits and dashed my hopes even more. It truly is a World War now, isn’t it? But perhaps having the United States involved will speed things along. We can only hope.

Merry Christmas, my love, and Happy New Year. May 1942 bring us better tidings.

_As leípete tóso polý kai skefteíte sychná. Eímaste pánta dikoí sas, agapitoí. _

Louisa and Thea

P.S. I’ve missed our Greek lessons.

* * *

28 December 1941

_Kalá Christoúgenna, agápes mou._ I hope your holiday had some happiness. We all had a gathering. Very small and private to not raise suspicion from the Italians, but a gathering all the same. We have all been feeling sad and hopeless, so where did we go? To the place where we all felt most alive. Your villa.

Theo, Lugaretzia, Florence and the Doctor, and even Larrys joined me in celebrating the holiday and speaking of our favorite Durrell memories. I hope you know how much you are missed, _agapité mou_.

I shared the photographs of Thea with them and everyone agreed that she is the most beautiful. Florence was very torn over being very happy for us and being very jealous at how easy things have been with Thea and how beautiful she is. I reminded her that Adonis has improved very much this last year in temperament and his looks. Perhaps one day he and Thea can be friends.

But I am glad you are both in England, _agápi mou_. There is a food shortage here in Greece. If you and Thea were here, I would be forced to watch you starve with no way to help you. The pain of being apart is nothing compared to the thought of losing you both.

I, too, hope that the Americans entering the war will help things. Surely it cannot be any worse?

When it is possible, I will visit the shop again so we can speak. Even hearing your tears, as hard as it was to hear them, brought some happiness to me. I cannot believe Thea can say so many things. Knowing she truly exists gives me so much hope and strength. She is truly a _thávma_. And your voice is still music to my ears. I do not know how it is possible, but you sound even more lovely than I remember. The sound of your voice is a melody I will carry in my heart until we are together once more.

_I megalýteri chará tis zoís mou, ta agapiména mou_.

Spiros

P.S. Your Greek phrase of the day is _ola ósa léyete ke kánete as yínonde me agápi_, which means “let all that you do be done in love.”


	23. June 1942

4 June 1942

Dear Spiros,

It is my firm belief that the utter chaos of war has finally stopped our letters from being delivered all these months. We have had delays before, of course, but everything found its hom eventually. But now we have not corresponded in nearly half a year, and I cannot imagine it was from lack of trying, and the only other alternative is truly unthinkable.

In case this letter actually reaches you, I shall recount the events of these last months again.

Soldiers from overseas finally arrived in England and have been dispersing themselves across Europe. The Americans are delightful, though I wish less horrible circumstances had brought them to us. They're very mannerly and refer to every man and woman as "ma'am" and "sir." They were also so helpful to me when I was returing from the grocery with Thea in her pram. One of my bags tipped over and my produce scattered everywhere. They immediately jumped into action to rescue my items from spoiling or going to waste, and thank heavens for that. Rationing continues to get more and more strict, so losing an entire bag of hard to come by fruit and vegetables would have been truly tragic.

It seems the Japanese armies have started to make a name for themselves. I feel like every time I read one of the papers, they have claimed another victory. My heart breaks a little each time, knowing that every success by our opposition means we are getting further and further away from resolving this conflict.

I've heard nasty whispers as well, about the disappearance of many Jews all over Europe. They're wearing more overt Stars of David on their clothing and their businesses are being vandalized, then they vanish. Then, the rumors say, they are being forced into buildings with hundreds of others and gassed to death. Just writing it makes me feel ill. I hope it is not true and that it does not continue. Why does one particular sect of people deserve to be wiped away? How is one group responsible for all the failures of history? And why are others so willing to believe it?

These kinds of things make me so anxious for Thea's second birthday in a few weeks. It pains my heart so to think this is the world she is growing up in; one that's full of hate and fear and blame. I want her to be full of love and courage and accountability. I don't want her to live in fear of what she does not know. The moment I began embracing the unknown was the moment I truly began to feel alive.

That's when I met you.

You have always made me feel free and alive, my dear Spiros. I look forward to greeting our future with open arms when this horrendous war is over.

Knowing that you and our dear friends feel most alive at the villa means more to me than you know.

We'll be together again soon.

_Agápi mou. Agapiména mou. Agapité mou. S'agapo._

Louisa and Thea

* * *

22 June 1942

My dearest Louisa,

I am very relieved to have finally received your letter. I had also been thinking the growing madness of the war was stopping our correspondence, but I was still worried. Knowing you are both safe has eased my heart so much, _agápi mou. _Your Greek writing is getting very good, by the way. When we are reunited, you might be as fluent as a native!

I am glad the Americans are being kind while they are in your country. I wish I could say the same for the soliders that occupy our country. We are doing what we can, but it is difficult. I have started doing small things for some of the groups, but nothing that would put me in danger. I hope this does not upset you, a_gapité mou_. I just could not sit by any longer if there was something I could do to help.

I hope to send Thea a gift soon, for her birthday. I am not sure how parcels are being delivered during these times, but I hope she will receive it and you both enjoy it.

_Stélno chília filiá sti Thea, épeita álla chiliádes gia séna. _

I send a thousand kisses to Thea, then a thousand more to you.

_Eíste to kalýtero pou mou synévi pote. S'agapó tóso polý, agapité mou._

Spiros


	24. October 1942

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just got a few more chapters for the remaining years of the war (43-45), then we'll be at the end of it all and see where it takes us :)

12 October 1942

Dear Spiros,

Four months. That's how long it's taken for things to feel settled again since your last letter. The disarray of the war continues to impact our lives despite being so far removed from the fighting. But I hope you did not worry for us. We have been doing our best and enjoying the little joys life gives us. 

I don't know how it was managed, but we received your birthday parcel for Thea and it was...it was everything we could have wanted and more.

The photographs of you, Larry, and all of our friends at the villa warmed my heart. I will keep them on our hearth so everyone will see them.

And the dress you sent for Thea...it took my breath away, Spiros. How did you find such a treasure? In the perfect size? I've been trying to think of the perfect occasions for her to wear it or else I will simply put her in it every day, justso the world can marvel at what a remarkable child she is. I cannot believe how magnificent it is. I will send photographs as soon as I am able. You will not believe how lovely she looks in it. Like a Greek princess.

I also was completely stunned at how much food you were able to smuggle! It should've been confiscated at customs. You're a clever devil, I'll give you that. But regardless, I was thrilled to find the jars of honey, jams, and the cookies. Thea was smitten after her first bite and demanded another. Normally I would refrain from allowing her so many sweets, but since these were Greek treats from her _bampás_, I made an exception, though I did make her ask nicely. She was very excited when I told her there were many more wonderful desserts to be had in Greece. I hope we can take her there one day.

Can you believe it's been three years since we parted? It feels like so much longer. I think about our first three years in Corfu, and I certainly do not think they passed this quickly. In hindsight, of course, it feels as though our time there raced past, but while it was happening, it did not seem so. It all seemed...just right. It didn't drag on and it didn't go by too quickly. Now I wish I could go back and slow it all down, to savor every moment. If we had known what was to come...

Do you think in another three years we will still be writing one another? Will the war continue to press on? More and more countries are joining the fight, which can't possibly be a good sign.

They've also lowered the consctription age to 18. I'm terribly worried for Gerry. What will happen if he's of age and his card comes up? I feel faint just writing it. He has grown so much since you saw him last, but he is not built for war. I don't think any of my boys are, really. They're not cowardly or "soft" as society would say, but they're so compassionate and tender (do not tell them I said that). They're so desperate to do some good in the world, true good, that having to be on the front lines of war would truly break them, as I'm sure it does with all the young boys who enter these conflicts.

Margo is doing everything she can to be useful, if you can believe it. She has matured (truly this time) so much since we returned to England. I think she expected me to be in utter shambles so she would need to be more responsible and take care of things. While I was not at my best when we left Corfu, I was certainly capable of functioning as a human and a mother, although you wouldn't know it by how much the children walked on eggshells around me. I mean, really. I'm a grown woman for pete's sake.

Nonetheless, I am grateful they are all still nearby and not off on foreign soil losing their lives. My heart aches for my neighbors who have not been so lucky with their husbands and sons.

I only have you to worry about.

I hope you are safe

We love you.

Louisa and Thea

P.S. Margo, Gerry, and Leslie all give you their best. Send Larry our love as well.

* * *

27 October 1942

My dear Durrells,

I am worried for you always, but unless Larrys brings me news of something terrible, I tell myself that you are alright. I know writing can be difficult and the mail service is not always reliable.

I send you well wishes and all the love in my heart. I cannot write much now, but I hope to write again soon. I am well and not involved in anything serious, but things are very tense and I am trying my best to avoid any trouble for right now.

_I megalýteri chará tis zoís mou, ta agapiména mou_.

Spiros

P.S. This has been the longest three years of my life, _agapiména mou. _I will never be parted from you again when the war is over. 


	25. December 1942

1 December 1942

Dear Louisa,

I am sorry for my short letter from a few months ago and I am sorry I have not been able to write since. I have been doing some...traveling.

As you know, I have been part of small activities with the liberation groups. I worked very hard to be helpful without becoming too involved so I was not in immediate danger. And because some of the ideals of the group are rooted in communism, which I do not agree with.

But as I am sure you have guessed or suspected, I did become more involved in executing the secret activities of the groups, partially because it is my duty as a Greek citizen, but also because we were working with English speaking peoples, so my skills were very much needed for the activity to be a success.

I cannot say too much because I do not want to raise any suspicion or give away our allies. But if you wish to know what I have been doing the last few months, you will need to putall our Greek practice to use.

**ένα δώρο από τον Βασιλ που το πήρε πάρα πολύ μακριά,**

**Και μια νύχτα φώτων στον ουρανό όταν έσπασε η καρδιά μου.**

I hate to mention these things and cause you any pain at their memory, but I know you will understand.

I wish you both _Kalá Christoúgenna_, my darlings. Perhaps soon we will share one together.

_Gia pánta stin kardiá mou,_

Spiros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Greek "riddle" at the end for Louisa says:
> 
> A gift from Basil taken too far  
And an evening of lights in the sky when you broke my heart.
> 
> A bridge + fireworks  
Fireworks = explosions in the sky  
Bridge + explosions  
A bridge explosion
> 
> This is referring to Operation Harling in November 1942 where British secret agents worked with the Greek resistance groups to blow up and destroy a viaduct in central Greece in order to slow/stop supplies from getting to the Germans. It was successful and, as a result, placed many of the British agents in Greece as allies. Kinda started to reignite a spark of hope in resistance groups.
> 
> Totally ridiculous, I know, but I needed them to have a secret code that only THEY would understand :)


	26. February 1943

14 February 1943

Dear Spiros,

How grateful we were to receive your letter! Though based on when it was dated, it was delivered nearly a month late. That paired with many other trials of war and raising a toddler is what caused such a delay in my response.

Thea is perfectly fine, just has some truly dreadful "terrible twos" moments at the most inopportune times. Fortunately, the war has made the world much more sympathetic. So when Thea has a tantrum at the grocer because the rations won't allow us to get her favorite ice lolly, instead of getting looks of reproach, I get looks filled with compassion, and some people even rush over to help cheer her up. I fully believe your daughter knows exactly how to manipulate the world into coo-ing over her, as if she doesn't get nearly enough attention from her mother, sister, two brothers, and all of then neighbors. I mean, really. She's going to turn out horribly spoiled. But I suppose if that's the worst thing that comes out of this war, I'll happily accept the consequences.

She actually has wonderful manners. It's so heartwarming to listen to her say, "Lolly please? _Sas parakaloúme_?" or, "_Sas efcharistó. _Thank you." People are very impressed when I tell them she is not quite three and already almost bilingual. Leslie and Gerry have been doing more Greek/English lessons than I realized and I am very thankful. Their Greek is much better sounding than mine.

But despite my poor accent, my ability to read Greek has improved a great deal since leaving Corfu thanks to you, _polyagapiméni mou_. So your message was received.

I am in awe of your great success, but furious at how easily you could have been killed! I cannot believe that you traveled over 300 miles and were not injured or captured. Fortune truly favors the brave, it seems. Or what was it Basil King once said? "Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." Something like that.

You were right, though. I knew all along you wouldn't be able to stay away from the fight. So I am certainly grateful you are well and that your activity was a success. We can only hope that your courage and daring continues to work for our benefit.

Like with the German surrender to the Russians just a few weeks ago. Fighting for Stalingrad for nearly six months now over. I cannot imagine the bloodshed and casualties. But with this German defeat in the East, could this be beginning of the end? Is such a thing possible? I dare not hope.

And yet...

The thought of seeing you again and meeting Thea for her third birthday...it's almost too joyous to bear. So I will simply hold this wish in my heart until it is true. I hope it is sooner rather than later, but we will wait for you as long as it takes, my dear.

All these dreams and hopes have made this St. Valentine's Day much less melancholy than in years past. I know we may still have quite a journey ahead of us, but I feel...encouraged, like the tides seems to be changing. Instead of feeling woebegone about another Valentine's without you, I think about all the ones we have ahead of us. Of all the notes and treats Thea will leave for her _bampás. _These thoughts feel like they're only just out of our reach, like Michaelangelo's depiction of God and Adam.

We love you and we are glad you are safe. We know you will always do right by us and right by your country.

All our love,

Louisa and Thea

P.S. Please enjoy this artistic endeavor by our very own Althea Miranda Halikiopoulos. I set the letter down for a moment to get an envelope for the post, and when I returned she had adorned the bottom portion with her artwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing about Spiros' bravery and daring, I started to wonder...what Hogwarts house would he be in? I think it's a tossup between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.


	27. October 1943

3 October 1943

Dear Spiros,

I hate that the war continues to drive a wedge between us. First I had to return to England, now it is interfering with the best form of correspondence we have. Some letters might have been lost or undelivered, but truthfully it's been difficult to write. Things seem to be moving in our favor, but it's so hard to tell when things could easily shift back in the other direction.

When I read about the liberation of Karditsa in March I nearly wept with joy. I know it's still kilometers away, but just knowing someplace in Greece has been set free gives me so much hope. Then in May when the Axis armies in North Africa were forced to surrender, it felt like a dream. Could our fortunes truly be turning?

I think what made we weep most of all, though, was the beautiful birthday gift you sent for Thea. Spiros, I had no idea you could whittle! How could we have known you all those years and never known this? You are so full of surprises and I adore you for it. Thea has cradled her black-headed bunting almost every night when she goes to bed. Needless to say, Gerry was also thrilled by it. He examined every inch and commented on how "realistic" the coloring on it was. I must say, it was quite sweet to watch him sitting with his little sister, telling her all about the wildlife of Greece. He's always been good to her because he knows how it feels to be the youngest and feel alone, but seeing him tell her about his experience in Greece was especially wonderful. I hope she inherits his love of animals, though perhaps not his love of housing them.

Your pressed leaves and petals from the trees and flowers near the villa filled my heart to bursting. Thank you for always making me feel special.

Gerry has also been doing some work for the war effort since he hasn't been called to fight, thank god, filling it at various age-appropriate odd jobs. So many buisinesses are short-staffed because of the war. I'm just so grateful that he's not in the military or working in a factory, like Leslie. But he seems happy to be with the RAF since he was unable to serve, which was such a huge disappointment to him...but was absolutely thrilling to me. Margo is doing what she can and flirting her way through life. It's good to know even in times of war, some things never change.

We hope you have been well these last months. We miss you terribly and love you fiercly.

Thea sends ten thousand kisses to her _bampás. _I send a thousand more t_o i kardiá mou_.

All our love,

Louisa and Thea

P.S. Four years ago, the Durrell family was living happily, blissfully ignorant of the war and our impending departure. I am counting the days until we can return.

* * *

31 October 1943

My dear Louisa and Thea,

Things do seem to be getting better in Greece and in Italy as well. Just a few weeks ago, the Allied armies invaded and took the country. I feel it is only a matter of time before they start to move south to help us. It is also my hope that the Italian soliders will be forced to fight for us rather than against us now that their leaders have surrendered.

I miss you both so much, _agapité mou_. I am so happy Thea loves her wooden bird. I worked with Theo to make it as real looking as possible. I want her to know Greece. And I was hoping Gerrys would also be excited about it, so reading that he sat with our_thávma_ to tell her of all his animal adventures...it is a special treasure for my heart.

I hope that the tides of war are changing. I do not know how much longer I can be apart from you and Thea, as well as the rest of the Durrells. I feel lucky that Larrys has been here all this time, though at times it makes me miss you all even more. I know he feels the same.

He helped me to find a way to stick your letter with Thea's colorings onto the wall so I could see it every day. It isstill so strange to think that she truly exists and can do these things. I cannot wait for the day where I can finally hold her in my arms. After I kiss her mother senseless, of course.

I hope you all stay safe and well, _agápi mou. _You are the greatest joy of my life.

Please give all of your children my love, and give Thea fifty thousand kisses from her _bampás. _

_Gia pánta dikó sas, polyagapiméni mou_,

Spiros

P.S. Four years ago, I was angry with you for Basil and Dimitra. Now I look back on that time with so much regret. How could I have wasted any precious moments with you? Now I can only be thankful that we have so many more to come, _glykiá mou_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if Spiros really was into whittling; couldn't remember his hobbies off the top of my head. But it does seem like something he would do, though, especially if he was carving something special for someone important :)


	28. February 1944

10 Feb 1944

Dear Spiros,

How can four months have gone by since your last letter? How could I have let the time slip away? I am so tired of having my hopes lifted only for them to be crushed so terribly again and again.

We have only been able to write each other twice in the last year. Once last February, then in October. Even at the worst of times, we used to have letters at least every few months. I hate this separation. I want to be optimistic, but it is starting to seem hopeless. The war has been going on nearly five years. I am truly starting to believe it will never end.

I thought surely after all the bombings in Germany in November that things were really turning around. If the primary location of our greatest threat fell victim to so many attacks, they should be losing shouldn't they? But somehow they haven't given up. What will it take for this all to end?

When I read about the massacre in Greece in December I nearly fainted. I know Kalavryta is quite far to the south, but since it was primarily a conflict between German soldiers and Greek resistance fighters...I couldn't help but wonder and worry. Perhaps I should still? I convinced myself that if you had died I would have heard from _someone_ by now--Larry, Theo, Florence. Someone would've gotten word to us....wouldn't they?

I think this is my most morose St. Valentine's of record. But I think it's reasonable, don't you?

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

_Thélo na eímai mazí gia pánta_

Louisa and Thea

* * *

25 Feb 1944

My dear Louisa,

Last St. Valentines it was you who was feeling hopeful. I was caught up in restoring balance with the resistance and trying to find some hope of my own. But this year, I am the one who is more hopeful.

The massacre in Kalavryta was terrible and heartbreaking, yes. I know many good people in that area and with that part of the resistance. But my family is still safe...both my Greek one and my English one. I easily could have been chosen or volunteered to go with the resistance to Kalavryta, but it did not happen. I cannot believe that is anything other than fate finally showing favor upon us.

It seems the Allied armies have started to have more successes after many months of what felt like nothing. I think it is only a matter of time now, _agapité mou_. I know we have said that many times these last few years, but something feels different now, _mia aísthisi entérou. _A feeling in my gut.

It pains me to read how sad you are, Louisa. I hope we can fix this somehow soon.

_Thárros, agapití kardiá_.

Courage, dear heart.

Perhaps I will see if the telephone shops are working? Hearing your voice will make the world disappear.

I love you, dear Louisa.

Spiros

P.S. _Thélo na eímai mazí gia pánta. _I want to be together forever, too, _polyagapiméni mou. _More than anything in this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiros borrowed from CS Lewis there at the end, even though CS Lewis didn't write them until the 50s. Spiros is just ahead of his time :)


	29. October 1944

8 October 1944

Dear Spiros,

My hope has been restored. So many good things have happened since your last letter. The Germans and Japanese are surrendering all over the world, though they seem to be sticking their heels in other places. It seems like Greece liberation is coming.

And the liberation of France in June. The Normandy landings. I could hardly believe my eyes when I read the papers. A major victory on the Western Front. It truly feels like the beginning of the end.

But those hardly compare to having a phone call from you in March. I scarcely dared hope when I read your letter that you would be able to contact us. So when I picked up the phone that early March morning, you can imagine my surprise and delight. Even if you couldn't, I'm sure my loud gasp gave it away.

I was so pleased Thea asked to speak with you. Isn't her Greek wonderful? She's absorbed it like a sponge. Perhaps she will have to teach me?

Hearing you both speak to one another in Greek and English is a memory I will hold close to my heart forever, likely next to the first time you do it in person. Can you believe how grown up she sounds? She's just turned four in June and already very clever. I can tell she will be quite a handful when she is a teenager. But by then, we will all be together and I'll simply pass her off to you when she becomes too much. I cannot wait to see how you interact with a teenage daughter.

It's been almost exactly five years since we left Corfu. As we have said many times, I could not have imagined how the world—our world—would change during that time. I feel we have been given some of our greatest blessings and our greatest sorrows. I hope when the war is over, we'll have nothing but joy for the rest of our lives.

Stay safe, Spiros. We love you.

Louisa and Thea

* * *

29 October 1944

My dearest darlings,

I am still in shock over how well spoken and intelligent our daughter is. She is still so young but seems so wise beyond her years. Hearing her voice...it brought me to tears, _agápi mou_, though I did my best to hide them. Her Greek is beautiful and when she speaks English she sounds just like you. My tiny Louisa. My little love.

She is truly like a real person now, not just a baby child. It makes me so proud and so sad. How could I have missed so much of her life? I have missed all of her firsts and will miss many more things before the war is over. I have so much love in my heart for her, but will she be able to love me the same way? After not knowing me her entire life, how can I expect her to? The thought of not having her love is almost unbearable. I hope she can grow to love me one day. I will do everything I must to earn her love and be worthy of it in her eyes. Just as I do for you, _polyagapiméni mou_.

Things are getting better in Greece, though there is still tension between liberation groups. I still fear a civil war if we cannot reach a solution or compromise soon. I am not worried for my safety, but for the safety of the country. Food shortages have started and it makes me so thankful the two of you are not here. I know you have been dealing with rationing for years, but, as always, you have made the best of it. If you were here, I truly would fear for your health and safety. I have already seen so many children and families near starving and have done my best to help them. I pray that help will come for us soon.

I love you, my darlings. Ten thousand kisses to you both.

Spiros

P.S. Your Greek phrase of the day is, _Orkízomai óti den tha boroúsa na s' agapó perissótero ap' óso s' agapó tóra, ki ómos xéro óti ávrio tha s' agapó pio polý_, which means, "I swear I could not love you more than I do right now, and yet I know I will tomorrow."

P.P.S. We have been parted for five years now, but when the war is over, I will not be parted from you for five minutes.


	30. November 1944

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got 8 chapters left for us! All but 2 of them are written. So please know the war will end soon :)

12 November 1944

Dear Mother,

Spiros has taken ill. The doctor seems to believe it is the early stages of pneumonia, but he is hopeful since we caught it so early. I wanted to write you not so you would worry for his health, but so you would not worry if you did not receive any replies from him while he recovers. He insisted he write a letter himself, but he's very weak. I have total faith he will make a full recovery, but he must rest and do as the doctor and I tell him in order for that to happen.

Please do not worry, Mother. He is in good hands and I will do my damnedest to make sure he's his obnoxiously kind and helpful self again in no time. I won't have my baby sister growing up without a father and I won't have my mother widowed again. Er...sort of widowed. Regardless, you shouldn't have to lose two loves in your life and I will make sure that does not happen.

Everything will be alright. Do not panic or worry.

Give Thea a kiss from her elder brother. I hope to see you both soon.

All my love,

Larry

P.S. Stop worrying. I mean it, Mother. Everything will be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry y'all....


	31. January 1945

4 January 1945

My dear Louisa,

I am alive and well again. I am sorry to have worried you. It seems in all my efforts to help my fellow Corfiots, I did not take care of myself. I see now my intentions were good, but it was incredibly stupid to not also make sure I was well. But I do not regret the help I gave. So many families and children made it through the food shortage, even if I became ill as a result. But I would never forgive myself if I had died and left you and Thea alone. It is a confusing mix of emotions, _agapité mou._The important thing is I am healthy now and will be more careful in the future.

Shortly after I fell ill, the Allied forces arrived and began handing out food to everyone in Greece. I am thankful for their assistance, as I fear many would have starved had they come much later. They are also working to fully liberate the country, which is mostly good news, but with all the conflict between the liberation groups, it has started to cause actual fighting that, if not stopped, will turn into the civil war I have feared for so long.

But there is so much hope, _agápi mou_. It seems the end of the war may truly be upon us.

I love you, my Louisa. We will be together soon.

Spiros


	32. February 1945

14 February 1945

Dear Spiros,

I cannot express in words how terribly relieved I was to receive your letter. I had assumed if you had taken a turn for the worse, someone would write to me. I had to stay hopeful. Larry wrote me when you were ill, so surely he would have written if you were still unwell. Nonetheless, reading in your own hand that you were well removed an enormous weight from my chest. Larry had said he would not allow you to write until you were fully recovered, so I knew you must truly be better to have written me.

I must say my relief was slightly dampened by just a small bit of frustration and cursing when I read you had neglected to care for yourself in favor of caring for others. I was not all surprised, that’s just who you are after all, but the reality of you withering away so that others might become strong...I would have been angry for many years if you had...

Regardless, Thea and I are glad you are well, though I did not share with her the seriousness of the situation. Just that her papa was feeling unwell and couldn’t write us until Larry said you were better. She trusts Larry implicitly despite never having met him, likely because she idolizes all of her older siblings and thinks they’re the most respectable people on earth. So if Larry is even older and in Greece, he must be the most respectable of all. I think she also admires him for taking such good care of her _bampás_. I imagine she will beg him to regale her with tales of your adventures during the war. I cannot wait to see him with her. He didn’t care much for Margo, poor thing, but he was going through a phase. Now that he’s (mostly) matured, I believe he will be positively smitten.

I can hardly believe she will be five years old this June. Where has the time gone? It certainly has dragged on in some ways, but seeing how much she has grown makes it seem as though it has flown past.

We have been apart for the last five St. Valentine’s as well, yet they have been some of the best ones of my life. Despite the anxieties and melancholy of the last few years, just knowing you were waiting at the end of it all allowed me to keep moving forward each day. Perhaps next Valentine’s we will be together at last.

I have a good feeling too, my love. It really feels like the war is coming to a close. Nations being freed and liberated, the Allied armies taking control of more enemy territory. The mood all over England is so much more optimistic, better than it has been in years.

My greatest wish would be to see you again by the end of the year. Can you imagine?

We love you so much. Thea cannot wait to meet her _bampás_. We talk about you every day. You needn’t ever worry about your love being reciprocated. She adores you. She asks about you almost every day, and the children and I are more than happy to indulge her. We all have different stories to share and she soaks them up. She tells her friends at day school about her Greek father and his bravery. I’m sure they all think she’s just telling stories, and I’m sure she has embellished a bit, but she is so proud of you. She loves you with all her heart.

As do I.

The Durrell household cannot wait to see you again.

All our love,

Louisa and Thea


	33. May 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch, people! :)

12 May 1945

Dear Spiros,

England has declared that the war has ended. I can hardly believe it. It seems that there is still some fighting because of Japan refusing to surrender, but the Prime Minister seems to think the worst is over. The Germans tendered their official surrender on May 7 and we celebrated Victory Day the following afternoon.

I also read that death camps instituted by the Germans are being liberated by the dozens. Can you believe such a horrible thing was going on right under everyone’s noses and we had no idea? It’s truly horrendous.

I hope things in Greece are going well. Please write soon.

We love you.

Louisa and Thea

P.S. I signed the official documents to register Thea for schooling in the fall. Her fifth birthday is next month. Where did the time go?

P.P.S. I never thought I would say this about another human, but thank god Hitler is dead.

* * *

28 May 1945

Louisa and Thea,

Things in Greece are still stabilizing. The liberation groups cannot seem to come to an agreement on what should happen next, just as I expected. I am trying my best to stay out of it so I can gain some favor should I wish to bring you here.

I wish I had more news, but that’s all I should say.

I am overjoyed to know Thea will be starting her schooling, even though it seems impossible she could be of age. I am glad she will finally begin to have some bit of a normal life after all that has happened.

If I do not write, do not worry, _agapité mou_. Just know I am working to get back into my life and find a way to make sure things are settled.

_Skéftomai synechós, agápi mou. Ypoméno._

We will be together again.

I love you.

Spiros

P.S. I agree with you about Hitler and take my own pleasure in Moussolini’s hanging. I think we are allowed these dark indulgences after all the terrible acts they committed.

P.P.S. Your Greek phrase of the day is _an akoúte ton ánemo polý prosektiká, tha boreíte na akoúsete na psithyrízo tin agápi mou gia séna, _which means, "if you listen to the wind very carefully, you'll be able to hear me whisper my love for you." For now, listen to the wind, but soon I will tell you in person until I can speak no more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Andrew Davidson for his quote that I used in the P.P.S.


	34. September 1945

14 September 1945

Dear Spiros,

Can you believe, at long last, the war has truly finished? The Japanese government surrendered last month and now it is officially over. But I cannot imagine the repercussions of the bombs the United States dropped. As glad as I am that it has helped end the war, I can’t help but feel awful for the innocent lives that were caught in the crossfire. I can only hope that something of this magnitude never happens again.

It’s been nearly three months since Thea turned five, which I still cannot believe. It’s so odd to wake up every morning with a child in the house rather than a toddler or baby. She’s also started Year One and absolutely adores school. It’s been very difficult for me to leave her each day, especially now that I am truly alone in the house.

But perhaps you shall join us soon? Or we will join you? Now that the war has ended…

Hope to hear from you soon.

Louisa

P.S. My apologies for the delay. So much was happening that we could hardly find the time to write! But I expect you knew we were safe and settling down again.

* * *

28 September 1945

Dearest Louisa and Thea,

Things in Greece are still not completely safe even though the war has ended. Civil war is beginning across the island. It is mostly located on the mainland around Athens, but things are tense everywhere. So I do not think it will be possible for you to come back.

I know this is not news you want to hear, _agapité mou_. But we will find a way.

Please give Thea all my love. Tell her that her _bampás_ will give her one silver drachma for every top mark she receives when we meet.

I love you, my dear ones.

Spiros


	35. October 1945

12 October 1945

Dear Spiros,

Six years ago, my family departed our beloved Greece for the safety of England. We had no idea what would lie ahead for us all. I never would have believed the war would go on for so long and cause such devastation. I never would have believed human beings would be capable of the atrocities committed by the Nazis in concentration camps. I never thought my peculiar children, as you once called them, were all capable of settling down and becoming serious. But I suppose war leaves no man (or woman) unchanged, does it?

I certainly in my wildest dreams never would’ve even thought to imagine having Thea with us. I wouldn’t have thought myself up to the task of being a new mother all over again. Despite having raised four of them, no two children are alike. But it seems all our bad luck skipped over our _thávma_. Even with the war going on behind us, she was exceptional. She _is_ exceptional. She must have somehow inherited your easygoing personality. If she had inherited mine, it would be a miracle itself for her not to be a massive bundle of anxiety. But she has always been calm and somewhat of a free spirit. I see so much of you in her, Spiros.

Six years is a long time.

I love you as much as the day we parted, if not more. Can it be possible for love to grow such from a distance? Will the garden we have cultivated and tended all these years bloom and blossom when we come together at last? Or will it wilt under the pressure? Will it be too overwhelmed?

I cannot tell you how badly I want to see your face and to hold your gaze once more. But will it be the same? I know we have both changed so much. Will love be enough? Or will the war pull its final trick and allow the years to have driven us apart in spirit?

But then I think about summer, all the beautiful drives when I watched you laughing from the passenger side, and when I realized I loved you in the fall. But then the war came, and the dark days when fear crept into my mind. I want to believe it’s just fear because I’ve needed you so, so much the last six years. Truthfully, I’ve needed you for far longer than that, but since the war, the missing has become even greater than I thought possible.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right. And how you held me in your arms that September night, after Hugh, the first time you ever saw me cry.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking or maybe it's mindless dreaming. But if we are together again I swear I’ll love you right.

I’m afraid, Spiros. I’m afraid that I’ve held all this love for you and it will have nowhere to go. I’m afraid of experiencing the pain of our final days in Corfu ten times over. I’m afraid you’ll realize what a mistake it was to abandon your life for some silly Englishwoman whom you’re now tethered to for life.

Know that I love you, more truly and more deeply than anything in my life. You are my past, present, and future. But if you feel things would not work between us in person as they used to, I will hold no ill will toward you.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t. I can’t undo what the war might have done to us, so if there's a chain upon your door, I understand. Just promise me you’ll come to meet Thea if it’s not safe in Greece.

I love you.

Louisa

* * *

31 October 1945

My dearest Louisa,

My sun and my stars. My breath, my air, my soul. You are my life. In spirit as well as in person. Nothing could stop me from getting to you now. I am doing everything in my power to get home to you.

It was not a mistake, my love, and I did not abandon my life for a silly Englishwoman. I did not go about things properly, but falling in love with you was _moíra_. I separated myself from a life that was making both people miserable. I still have my children. They are safe from the war and will still see me often. Dimitra has had a new husband for some time.

And you are anything but silly, _kardiá mou. _You can_ be_ silly, but that does not mean you_ are_ silly. You are lovely and kind and funny and wonderful, not to mention very beautiful. You are everything to me.

And Thea is my next greatest joy in life. I, too, could never have imagined we would receive such a blessing. I cannot think of anything I could have wanted more than to share a child with you, the greatest love of my life. Simply being with you is more than enough, but having our _thávma_ means that my life—our life—is truly extraordinary. I cannot wait to meet her. I cannot wait to know her and be a real_bampás_ to her. I cannot wait to teach her more Greek and about our culture and her history.

But most of all I cannot wait to hold you in my arms and never let you go again.

I know it is difficult, my love. But I promise you, I love you and never wish to be parted from you. There is no power in heaven or hell or any who can stand between you and me any longer.

I once heard it said, “have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

One more time, _polyagapiméni mou_. Then we will never have to feel this pain or fear again.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

_Chília kardiés tha ítan polí líyes ya na kratísun óli tin agápi mu ya séna._

A **thousand** hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you.

Spiros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Taylor Swift's "Back to December" for the lyrics I borrowed + edited


	36. December 1945

4 December 1945

My dearest Louisa,

I am coming soon. Civil war is spreading all over Greece, so I will come to you. I do not know if it will be before the New Year, but it will be soon. As quickly as I can.

I love you.

Spiros

* * *

26 December 1945

Dear Spiros,

Please come home to us. We are ready.

We love you.

Louisa and Thea


	37. January 1946

18 January 1946

Spiros,

I have taken Thea to the market to fetch what we can for dinner. Please try to relax and make yourself at home. I know it is not the villa, but at least we are together. I kno you must be exhausted from all your traveling this week. Have a lie down and we will wake you when it’s time to eat.

I know Thea would love it if you walked with us to school tomorrow. She’s so desperately wanted her friends to meet her _bampás_ and show off her Greek to them. They think it’s just a language she’s made up! They’ll be stunned when you speak it, too. But beware their lurking mothers. They’ll try and snap you up in an instant. I’m almost certain they think that_ I’ve_ made up Thea’s Greek father as well. Oh, I can’t wait to rub their noses in it. Is that awful of me? Perhaps, but I’ve had to endure their “polite” but judgmental looks and questions for months.

I still cannot believe you’re here, Spiros. At the moment you’re out with Leslie and Gerry, but in England all the same. I’m terribly sorry we couldn’t reunite in Greece. I know we’ll return someday, when things are more stable.

But England is so much brighter with you in it. I know until we can return to our home we will make the absolute best of our time here.

We love you and we are so glad you are with us at last.

See you soon,

Louisa and Thea

* * *

18 January 1946

My dear Louisa,

Thank you for going to the market, though I fear I will be too exhausted to eattonight. I am sorry for the trouble, _agápes mou_. Please go about your evening as usual. I promise when I am recovered from being tired we will share many meals together.

I would love nothing more than to walk with you both to Thea’s school. I would be much delighted to impress her friends and make her feel very special with her Greek skills.

Do not worry for any other women, _agapité mou_. As I always tell you, you are more lovely to me every day. How could I even glance in another’s direction so long as you are by my side and in my heart?

My love, I am the happiest man in the world to be here with you. It does not matter where we are, so long as we are together. We could live in the slums of Turkey and I would not want to be anywhere else. And you know I am serious if I say I would live in Turkey.

_Eíste i megalýteri chará tis zoís mou, agapiméni mou_. You are the greatest joy of my life, my darling. You and our _thávma_, Althea Miranda Halikiopoulos. Our wonderful healer. I cannot tell you how much joy it brings to my soul to hold her in my arms and kiss her cheeks. To talk and laugh with her in Greek and English. To have her love me back despite meeting me only days ago. She is wonderful, _agápi mou_. A testament to how truly magnificent you are.

Please wake me when you come to bed. I would like to tell Thea goodnight and hold you close before we welcome sleep.

_Ta léme_, _agápi mou. _

Spiros


	38. October 1950

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading and for all your support and wonderful comments! I so appreciate you all taking this journey with me. It's been such a delight. I have a Spotify playlist for these lovebirds and a Google doc with all the translations of the Greek I used in this story. Feel free to check them out :)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2MR0aOiuyRlEXkeDlnqfKh
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/10lUZSsmOd9qtR-noIU3aij7_gH96k6vI2qOkbhJp8lo/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> Enjoy the epilogue <3

** _I'm tired and I felt it for awhile now. In this sea of lonely, the taste of ink is getting old._ **

** _As long as you're alive, here I am. I promise I will take you there._ **

\- The Used, _The Taste of Ink_

* * *

10 October 1950

My dear Louisa,

I hated to leave you in bed at the villa this morning, but I had to start my driving early. Though I am known across the island for my many years of excellent service, now I must compete with men who are much younger and more handsome. So perhaps I will be back soon.

_S’agapo, ta ílio kai ta astéria mou. _

Spiros

P.S. Shall we later meet in heaven? I know the way.

* * *

10 October 1950

My dear Spiros,

As much as I love finding notes from you regarding your whereabouts, I do not so much enjoy explaining to Thea what “meeting in heaven” means. Of course, after regaling her with your version of our family history all these years, she no doubt has figured it out already. She is quite precocious, isn’t she?

I have taken her to the market as a distraction. I would rather like to put off her womanhood talk until she’s a bit older, if that’s alright with you.

Please imagine me smirking at you as I pretend to be cross but am actually deeply amused.

We’ll see you when we return home. I expect Thea will have charmed the entire market with her excellent Greek, and I expect the stall owners will wonder who she belongs to once they hear me speak. Luckily, she may introduce herself as Thea Halikiopoulos and they will likely let out a joyous shout for your offspring, forgetting entirely about the homewrecking Englishwoman who broke up your marriage over a decade ago. Yes, I know the Greeks can hold a long grudge. Perhaps since I helped in creating Thea, they will be willing to consider forgiving me.

Louisa

* * *

10 October 1950

_Bampás_,

Mama is pretending to be terribly cross about your post-script, but I know she is secretly delighted. I am pleased to see my parents still so positively smitten with one another, despite how embarrassing you can be in public.

_Sas efxaristó_, _bampás, _for bringing us home to Greece. I have waited my whole life to return to my _alithinó spíti, _my true home. Mama told me many stories during the war about Corfu, so to see it for myself after all this time feels like a dream.

I love you, Papa.

Αλθεα Μιρανδα Χαλικιοπουλοσ — I do so love writing my name in Greek!

* * *

12 October 1950

My most dear Louisa,

Eleven years ago we parted ways for what we thought would be for a lifetime. Now we are together again, with our sweet _thávma_ by our side, watching the sun set over Corfu.

The war brought many tragedies to our world and some to our lives. But it brought us Thea and now it has brought us back home.

Please meet me in Corfu town for lunch. I want to show off my English family to my Greek family and...what do you say? Vice-versa?

I love you, Louisa. My dearest. Thank you for my life. 

Spiros

* * *

12 October 1950

Dear Spiros,

Thank you for spoiling us with lunch. Eleven years ago, I never would have dreamed such a thing was possible.

I have taken Thea to our special place. Join us when you return home.

_S’agapo, agapite mou. _More and more every day.

Louisa


End file.
